Honorary Dawson
by Elmrada
Summary: All that is left in the Titanic's wake is destruction, misery, and an unforeseeable future. Cal wants Rose back. Rose wants Jack back. Ruth just wants everything to go according to plan. What lays ahead for them in life beyond the Titanic? No one knows... and no one seems like themselves anymore. *Slow-burn*
1. Second Chances

Honorary Dawson

_April 15th, 1912_  
_Atlantic Ocean_

Rose lay bundled in blankets along the bottom of a lifeboat. She had been drifting in and out of consciouness for who knows how long. Her mind was full of fearful images. She could see people screaming, crying, refusing to be parted from their lover's arms. She could see fingers slipping from each other's grasp. She could hear the gears of lifeboats, the splashing of the ocean. It was all replaying in her mind over and over again. Occasionally, Jack's face filled the space behind her eyes. She could feel his tight grip on her. She could remember the feeling of being lifted by him over the railing. The way his fingers tangled through her curls.

Dawn was just breaking across the ocean. Rose slowly opened her eyes and cocked her head to the side. Only wood stared back at her. Where was Jack? The moment the _Titanic _descended into the sea, Rose could remember no more. Only bits and pieces of her surfacing came through to her. She hadn't seen Jack again. She remembered her numb hands gripping a barrel. Nothing else made sense, however. Rose's tired eyes looked up to see two White Star service men sitting on the benches, hunched over. They also had blankets draped over themselves and occasionally, they looked out to sea.

Rose sat up, pain wracking her body. She felt incredibly numb and a dull ache resounded through her bones. She slumped against the side of the life boat, making it buckle. The service men turned around now. One was up in a moment's notice, wrapping his arms around her shoulder.

"Ma'am, please don't move too quickly, you're in shock," He said, rubbing her blanket against her arms to create friction. Rose only looked at him, "We're glad you're awake."

The man helped Rose to a bench, where she held her blankets close. She was so cold. Her teeth chattered together as she looked out to the sea now. The _Titanic _was no where to be found. It was nearly unbelievable. Such a massive ship, so luxurious, a true wonder to behold. How could it simply be gone? She noticed other lifeboats nearby, bobbing in the wake of the Atlantic ocean. Their lifeboats were packed to the seams with people. The morning was rather breath taking. There was not a single cloud in the sky. The rays of the sun pierced the sky, drowning the day in oranges, pinks, and blues. Rose looked up at the sky and squinted.

"Would you like some water?" A man offered her a bottle. Rose slowly took it into her hand, nodding politely to him. She simply couldn't find her voice in that moment. It's like it had been chased away. Her hands shook as she tilted her head back. Some water dribbled down her chin.

"Look- what's that?" The other man said, coming to his feet. The life boat shifted back and forth, "My God, it's a ship! It's a ship! We're saved!"

With the sun streaming behind it, there was a medium sized steam liner making a path directly towards the small bobbing lifeboats of survivors. Other's were beginning to notice, too. Rose could hears hoots and hollers travel across the ocean. The men pulled oars out from beneath the bench and immediately slid to opposite ends, dipping the oars into the water. Rose held the bottle of water in her lap only staring towards the ship. She looked down at the ocean, her hair falling over her shoulders. There were no curls. Only a straight curtain of knots and kinks.

The men in the lifeboat rowed furiously towards the cluster of lifeboats awaiting their saving grace. As Rose saw the faces of survivors grow near, she pulled her blanket over head, draping it over her red hair. She ducked her face into the shadow of the blanket as the men slowed their rowing. Even when such a devastating accident happened, she knew the gossip mill did not stop. She glanced towards another boat following them, that had only service men on it. She didn't know if anyone else was pulled from the water, but she prayed maybe she would find Jack. She again tried to search deep into her memory of what happened only hours ago, but it was to no avail. She could not remember past watching the _Titanic _bubble and descend into the dark icy water. Small snippets of the chaos of people squriming in the water and ruined furniture and decor bobbing past her was only brief and offered no help.

Rose peaked at the steam liner from beneath her make-shift cloak. Stencilled along the side in black block lettering read _SS Carpathia. _It wasn't a large ship by any means and was not quite spectacular. Many passengers were standing on the deck, leaning over, their eyes glancing over the dishevelled and broken passengers of the _Titanic. _Rose wondered if they would have enough room for everyone. The engine of the ship groaned to a halt, smoke chugging from it's stacks. Whistles were ringing out from above, along with the clatter of shoes to the boards.

Slowly, ropes unfurled to the closet lifeboats. The White Star service men began working on tying ropes around the waists of women and children. They gave the rope a tug, indicating to begin pulling. Rose watched as unfamiliar faces were lifted alongside the ship. Many women were crying hideously. Children looked up at the towering boat with faces of awe and exhaustion. Some men were hauled up as well, silent and solemn. Rose was beginning to feel light headed and another wave of shivers wracked her body.

The man beside her draped another blanket around her shoulders, gathering her into his arms, "Please be patient, ma'am. I know it's hard, but just a few more minutes."

Rose watched the lifeboats before her empty one by one. However, she froze when she saw a rope being tugged up along the side. It was her mother. She was so pale, her hair absolutely dishevelled. She was clutching a woolen blanket to her small wiry figure, her other hand gripping the rope. She looked absolutely shattered and only gazed upwards with empty eyes. Rose's eyes followed her as she made it to the railing, where two men pulled her over and immediately took her out of sight. Molly Brown was the next to be taken up. Rose began to shake in the man's arms again, who held her protectively, trying his best to honor his code as a service man.

Only men remained in the lifeboats and were next to be hauled up. Rose was glad to be one of the last one's. She didn't want to swing in the air before everybody. She didn't want any eyes on her. In that moment, Rose only wanted to disappear. She wanted to sink to the bottom of the ocean, where her heart currently was. Rose saw Cal as one of the men being hauled up. She turned her head away, pressing it to the crook of the man's neck. She thought herself to be a fool.

"It's your turn, ma'am," The man nudged her gently. They rowed closer to the awaiting ship. A rope unfurled beside them, "I'm going to tie this around your waist. Try to hold on to steady yourself," He said as he began tying a knot around her. She was draped in blankets and a woolen coat, and still, she felt so frightfully cold. The service man looked to her once more before nodding and giving the rope a tug. Rose was pulled up rather forcefully. She grasped the rope with one hand, as she was instructed, and held her blanket over her head as tight as she could.

As she was carried along the side of the ship, she looked out to the endless sea. Ice bergs glided along the surface. Birds were squawking. It was a glorious morning. Rose stared emptily at the never ending horizon. There was absolutely nothing around them. They were alone. Rose brushed against the side of the cool steel, sending a shiver down her spine. When she made it to the deck, it was packed and full of chaos. Two service men for the _Carpathia _were there and immediately grabbed her, hauling her over the railing. They set her on her feet, but her legs immediately let out. She began to collapse forward, but one of the men caught her and held her to him.

"She needs a bed," The man said, "Find an empty one."

Rose was given a cot in the shade of the deck. She laid on her side, curled in a ball beneath her mountain of blankets. She tucked her face into the darkness. With her eyes closed, she could still only see the horrors of the _Titanic. _She could see people pushing and shoving, doing anything to secure their life. Rose tried to focus on finding Jack's face, but she just couldn't. Hot tears stung behind her eyes and found a way to streak down her cheek. She felt so awful. She felt so much pain. She thought her life before had been terrible. Now, she found herself in a whole new world of hurt.

In the distance, she heard the orders of men coming out. Then the engine of the ship vibrated unpleasantly before smoke began puffing into the sky. They were moving again. Rose could hear people clapping. Choked sobs made it to her ear as well, making her pain deepen. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be anywhere else. Why did she have to survive? What made her life more important? She couldn't return to her old life. She had betrayed her mother and Cal so deeply there was simply no going back. And with no Jack, what awaited Rose now? The endless possibilites that dazzled her in Jack's presence were gone. The feeling was fleeting and now stung Rose deep to her core.

"Miss?" She jerked her head up to see a nurse leaned over her. She was wearing a black and white long sleeved dress, her hair pinned up atop her head, "I'm sorry to startle you, miss. I'm just here to check on you." She began pulling the blankets back on Rose's face, but she fought to keep them over her. The nurse gave up on that and reached into the blanket, pressing her hand to Rose's forehead. She looked towards the doctor Rose now noticed, who had a clipboard, "Extremely cold, even with all the blankets. I would say her body's temperature is below 95 degrees."

"By the look of her skin, I'd say she has a mild case of hypothermia," The doctor agreed, "Get her some soup," The nurse nodded and disappeared. The doctor knelt beside Rose, who only stared at him from where she laid, "Ma'am, you should have some soup and some tea and try to get up and walk around. If you don't, you might not be able to bring your temperature back up and it could lead to some serious complications."

Rose still said nothing. The nurse returned a few moments later with a bowl of steaming soup. It had carrots and peas bobbing in it. The nurse helped Rose sit up and let her rest against a support pole that lead to the bird's eye nest. She pulled her blanket further over her head and held the soup in her hands. The nurse gave her a spoon and spoke encouraging words to eat it all. She assured Rose there was plenty to go around.

After they left her, Rose lowered the soup to her lap and looked over the railing towards the ocean steaming past them. Just yesterday, Rose was aboard a different ship, having the time of her life. Less than a day ago, she was at a steerage party, chugging beer and dancing the night away. She let out an uneven sigh and slowly spooned the soup into her mouth. It was rather good, to her surprise, and the warm feeling sliding down her neck and to her belly was extremely comforting. She looked to the other people on the deck. They were primarily all passengers of the wrecked ship. Some were huddled in blankets, quietly chatting with others. Some were left alone, a broken despairing look plastering their faces. Some children found the energy to play. Rose watched a _Carpathia _child spin a top out onto the deck, entertaining two boys from the _Titanic _who were absolutely mesmerized by the toy. She began eating her soup faster, feeling her appetite begin to return. She kept her head ducked low, silent, as she ate her soup in peace.

...

Just below the deck, Ruth was laying down on a bed in a room the _Carpathia _claimed was first class. It was no where near Ruth's definition. It lacked intricate wood work. It lacked a sitting room and a tea room. It even lacked a balcony. It was simply a big room with one modest fireplace, a four poster bed, and a sitting area towards a hallway that lead to a bathroom with only one small claw foot tub. Ruth had her arm slung over her eyes, a headache throbbing behind her skull. Molly Brown was sitting with the woman who had offered them the room to share, a Mrs. Tillie Langford. They each had their own cup of tea balanced delicately on a saucer. Molly was relaying to her what she witnessed of the sinking from the lifeboat. Tillie was clinging to each word. Ruth cringed at every sentence.

"I don't wish to talk about this," Ruth said, sitting up now. She knew a migraine was setting on. She could see the beginning stages of aura. Her whole body ached. She was hungry. But she was motivated to do nothing about it. She tried smoothing out her black velvet dress, but the wrinkles were too deep. She sighed, deeply frustrated. The _Carpathia _first class did not even have maids. Who would fix the damage done to one of her favorite dresses?

"Why don't you come have some tea, Ruth?" Molly asked, gesturing to an empty seat, "You need to warm up."

The idea of tea was inviting. Ruth lingered on the bed for a moment more before she climbed down and joined the women. Tillie immediately jumped to serving it for her. Ruth took it silently and then looked between the two women.

"I'm so sorry for what you two had to go through," Tillie said, a slight British accent detectable, "It sounds absolutely dreadful and horrifying. I cannot imagine what you lost. I do surely hope it is all replaceable."

Ruth lowered her tea cup to her lap and in the next moment, tears had gathered in her eyes. She pressed her hand to the bridge of her nose, trying to silence the sobs ripping up her chest. She had to hold it together. She knew she looked like a lunatic. She could not show any sign of weakness, but the tears slid off her cheek and into her tea, making the surface ripple.

"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater," Tillie leaned forward, pressing a supportive hand to her knee, "It's alright. Everything will be just fine."

"But it won't," Ruth put her tea on the table before she spilled it on the carpet. She wouldn't have cared if she did, though. The carpet was certainly not her taste. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to shield her ugly cries, "I cannot replace my daughter."

"Oh my," Tillie sat up straight now.

"Now, Ruth," Molly said, "We don't know that Rose is actually dead. She may have caught another boat."

"Who would let her on a boat with that _rat _beside her?!" Ruth hissed through her tears, "My daughter was the epitome of first class royalty. But with that man beside her, she was nothing more than a little steerage girl playing dress-up!"

"I don't like the way you're talkin' about Jack," Molly murmered, lowering her tea now too.

"Don't you say his name!" Ruth's voice was sharp, "I've lost everything because of him!" Ruth stood up and walked to the window. She looked back and forth before turning to Tillie, "Is there any room aboard this God-forsaken ship that has a balcony where I can be alone?!"

"Well, you could go down to Mr. Jonathan Astley's room. I believe he has the biggest one on the ship. It's number 109," Tillie replied patiently.

Ruth left without another word.

...

Cal was sitting on the upper deck of the ship with a cigarette dangling in between his lips. He was hunched forward, his elbows digging into his knees. He had a pounding headache and his stomach was aggressively hungry. All he wanted to do was smoke and be left alone, however. He took a deep inhale, allowing the smoke to sting his nose as it drifted from his nostrils. He cocked up straight, his body sore from running and climbing all night. He hadn't exerted himself that hard since school. He undid his bowtie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He was tired of trying to look composed. He felt anything but.

Cal wanted to feel angry, but all he felt was emptiness. He had fought for his life and had survived. He should have been happy and thanking the Hockley name. They were known for always winning and pulling through. But Cal felt none of that. A trace of red caught the corner of his eye and he turned around in a hurry, leaning back on the bench. It was only a steerage woman with curly red hair, though. He stared at her longingly before turning forward and smoking his cigarette some more. Cal ached for Rose. Despite all that had happened in the past twelve hours, he wanted nothing more than to see the girl with eyes the color of beautiful pastures. He wanted something familiar in his arms. Something to comfort him. Rose had brought him that sense.

Though the marriage had been arranged and Cal was proud to have a trophy to prove his hard-earnings, he had loved that woman. Their past months parading through Europe together had only proved that more to him. She was incredibly witty, forgiving, and relenting. She was easily agreeable and never put up much fight. Seeing how she was last night was forever engraved into his mind. Rose was stronger than he thought. There was a fire in her he had overlooked. And yet that fire... it did not burn for him. Why, in their one and a half year engagement, had she never expressed those feelings for him? He bathed her in spoils and felt he had dangled the world before her with a string. Why did it take a man who owned nothing more than dirt to ignite a passion in Rose he had been working to uncover the entire time?

Cal stood and went to the railing, looking down on the deck below where people laid scattered on cots, eating soup, drinking tea and coffee, and trying their best to grapple with what they had left. What was left for Cal now? When he returned to America, what would he do? He knew he'd return to working with his father, but what else? He couldn't inherit the business entirely without proving to his father he could conform, marry, and procreate.

Cal took a long drag of his cigarette and looked out amongst the people trying to make something from nothing. He had known that feeling far too well. Trying to please his father was like making thin air turn into something expensive. Cal felt a deep regret tighten in his stomach. He wanted one more time to hear Rose's voice. He wanted to hear her endless drabble on artwork that did not capture his attention. He looked out towards the ocean, a lonely pang echoing through his body. During their engagement, it was all business to him. Why hadn't he looked deeper? He had never felt so empty and penniless in his entire life. He had had the world only twenty-four hours before.

What had happened?


	2. A Ghost Sighting

Chapter Two

_April 16th, 1912_  
_Atlantic Ocean_

When Rose awoke, she was staring at grey bars above her head. She looked around the small barren room, mental confusion plaguing her momentarily. The doctor had told her that mild hypothermia would cause such. There were two sets of bunk beds in the room, each occupied by slumbering people, buried beneath mountains of quilts. Rose looked back to bars before her as her mind began to revive her. She had been offered a bunk by a family of three in the third class the evening before. Rose thought to Jack at that moment. This was what his room had looked like aboard the _Titanic. _

Rose swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched. Her legs offered more strength and she used that power to go to the small port hole window between the bunk beds. She looked out to a gloomy day. The grey clouds hung low, threatening the sea with a storm. The sea was reacting bitterly and the waves looked rough with white caps tossing and turning. Rose decided that's how her mind felt.

Not wanting to disturb the family, Rose grabbed the woolen coat Cal had given her, along with her blankets, and left before anyone woke. She wandered around the ship aimlessly, mostly because she was so unsure of where to go. She found herself in the mess hall where the third class passengers would eat. Many of the tables had been pushed together along the far right side of the room, as many cots had been set up for surviving passengers who moaned and groaned beneath their thin sheets. Rose could not bear the awful scene and found stairs the lead her up. When she made it to the deck, it was nearly desserted. It was stunning, since only the day before, it had been cramped with refugees from the sea. The unfavorable weather, however, kept people deep inside the ship, and Rose was allowed to roam free.

She set her blankets uncaringly on a bench before she went to the railing and watched the rough sea. Rose closed her eyes and tried to focus in that moment. She didn't want to see the horrors of the night before. She dug deep into her mind to procure images of Jack. She began to imagine his tan skin, gleaming in the light of the first class deck. She saw his blond hair, boyishly flipped and tossled above his head. She envisioned his smirk, his dark eyes, and his careless attitude. She imagined his artistic hands gliding along her skin, making goosebumps pucker all over her body. There he was, in his dark purple button-up, suspenders, and coudory pants. His hands were jammed deeply in his pockets, uncaring of judging eyes. She smiled with her eyes closed, as she envisioned the comfort he brought her. When Rose opened her eyes, however, the warm feeling vanished.

She was all alone aboard a foreign ship. Nothing but the sea surrounded her. It slightly drove her mad. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel Jack's hot breath on her ear. She wanted to hear him sing to her, bathed in the evening light. She wanted to feel his calloused hands running along her's. Rose leaned against the railing and touched her temple lightly. She thought long and hard.

How could a two day infatuation make such a difference on her life? _Infautation? _Her mind echoed increduously. Rose was certain she had felt love. More than she ever had in her past year with Cal. What was different? What rang so true to her? What was it about Jack that made her feel light as a feather? Rose sighed, her stomach stewing between nausea and discontent. She looked around the deck until she noticed a man standing on the higher portion, smoking a cigarette. How dearly she craved one.

Forgetting her blankets, Rose climbed the stairs with shakey legs to the next level. It was a man with dark hair and a dishevelled suit. He was staring out towards the ocean, his back to her, unaware of Rose's presence. She approached him slowly before she cleared her throat quietly to get his attention. She hadn't used her voice in nearly a day and she was worried it would fail her.

"Excuse me," She said, surprised by how foreign she sounded, "Do you have a cigarette to spare?"

The man hadn't faced her yet. He took another drag before reaching into his coat and turning towards her. Her eyes widened when she saw his face, as did his. It was Cal. He said nothing. Only held a cigarette out towards her. Rose slowly took it into her slender fingers. Cal extended his silver lighter to her as well and watched as she lit her cigarette and then came to stand at the railing beside him. Cal felt as if he had seen a ghost and he clung to his cigarette to shake him back to reality, but yet she remained. There she was, before his very eyes. He was worried his lack of sleep was creating illusions.

"Rose..." He said, staring off into the angry ocean. She looked to him, exhaling smoke from her mouth slowly. She wanted to savor the rush she felt from finally having a cigarette. Cal looked to her now, into her angelic face. He felt his emptiness begin to leave. A feeling of relief was beginning to flood into him. Cal looked into Rose's eyes deeply. He wanted to reach out to touch her, but his arms did not move. They only looked to each other in the grim weather, "It's a pleasant surprise to find you here."

"Is it?" Rose asked, placing her cigarette between her lips. She knew she looked an awful mess. Her hair was uncombed, flat and boring. It was in a state Ruth told Rose to never allow men to see her in. Her skin was pale, her body shaking from repercussions of the cold Atlantic ocean. She was wearing his coat, however, and she welcomed the comfort and warmth it provided her over the pale blue and white dress that covered her body, destroyed and ripped.

"I'm... glad to see you," Cal said, lowering his cigarette. He allowed his hand to reach out now, and he pressed his palm to her elbow, "You're alive."

Rose felt so vulnerable beneath his touch and she moved from his reach, leaning against the railing and relying on her cigarette to give her comfort. She inhaled roughly and exhaled, swallowing a cough from her throat. She looked to Cal, nearly shaking before him. When she gazed into his eyes, however, there was something different about them. They weren't rough and hard to read. He looked hurt, devastated, and distraught.

"Where have you been?" Cal immediately asked, not daring to take another step towards her, "Did you catch a lifeboat?"

Rose lowered her eyes, feeling tears threatening to spill, "No..." She said, nearly in a whisper. Her voice felt so weak. Her entire body did, "I was on the _Titanic _until it was no more."

"You've been in the water?" Cal looked down at the sea in turmoil. When he had been aboard a lifeboat, he allowed his hand to skim the water. It had been freezing to the touch, enough to numb his fingers. He looked over her pale skin to see she had been damaged, "How did you survive?"

"I... don't know," Rose finally said, lifting her eyes now, "I don't remember anything."

"Shouldn't you be resting? Surely it can't be good you're up and about," Call shook his head, lowering his cigarette.

"No, the doctor said I should move around," Rose replied quietly.

They stood silently for a few moments. Distantly, thunder cackled and the occasional lightening bolt ran across the sky. But still, the rain did not fall. Rose smoked her cigarette unsteadily. Every moment her mind was not occupied, she found herself confronted by random memories of the night. She knew the entire night existed somewhere in her mind. She did not understand why her brain was simply blocking it out. She caught glances of Jack in her mind, hustling, sliding against other people, shoving furniture out of the way and reaching out to her hurriedly. That's not how she wanted to remember him, though. Rose did not want to think of Jack frenzied. She wanted to remember his soft eyes, his constant smile. She wanted to rub her hands through that boyish blond hair that simply bounced at her touch. She wanted to see his tanned body, his sturdy muscles. She wanted to see him in his natural state. Leaned back in a cushy chair, drawing her. His refreshing blue eyes darting up at her from behind his art pad. But no matter how hard she fished, her mind failed to procure the images. She finally released the smoke that had been hitched in her throat.

"Where is... Dawson?" Cal finally had to ask. He had been glancing over his shoulder's to see if anyone had come onto the deck. But still, the nasty weather kept everyone holed up below. Not even were any crewmates strolling about. The only person present was high above, huddled in the crow's nest with a mountain of blankets and cocoa that was already chilled.

"I don't know," Rose admitted, "I have no idea if he survived or not."

_He could still be alive... _Cal thought blankly. He was so tired, his mind unable to complete the simplest tasks, that he couldn't even comprehend how that would affect him. Cal looked to Rose, who seemed so frigid and vulnerable. He did not know in that moment whether Rose would return to him or if she was going to simply disappear again. _I think it's expected she'd return to me... she has no where else to go. No contacts, no money. She's absolutely helpless._

Rose threw her cigarette into the sea, "I want you to pretend you did not see me."

_Well, that answers that, _Cal thought, almost wanting to snort with laughter. He did his best to keep his face stoney, not wanting her to think her request to be a joke. Cal took one more puff of his cigarette before also tossing it into the ocean, "Why would you want that?"

"I... I don't want to see my mother," Rose said, her eyes bloodshot.

"Rose, I..." Cal looked down for a moment, "I can't promise anything."

Rose sighed and closed her eyes. She then turned to leave. She was hurried to get down the stairs, collect her blankets, and hide in the third class, but Cal called after her. His voice stunned Rose in her spot, as if he had complete control over her. His voice had controlled her in the past year. The last forty-eight hours, though, she had been without fear of his voice. But now she found herself absolutely paralyzed at the thought of it. Stiffly, she turned back to Cal.

"Will I... see you again?"

It was a question she was not expecting. She looked at him with arched eyebrows before she finally summoned her voice, "I don't know."

And with that, Rose descended the steps, collected her blankets, and left the deck. Cal watched from the railing as the door slammed shut behind her. The ship was not large at all. Not even a third of the _Titanic. _He was sure he was bound to run into her again.

...

Molly Brown drew the curtains back in her generously donated bedroom. The dark day greeted her and she let out a sigh. She sure was in the mood for something to be happy about. The light of the day, however, crossed over Ruth who was still laying in bed. Molly adjusted the brooch at the collar of her blouse and approached Ruth's bedside.

"Ruth, honey, maybe you want to get up and have a bath? Some breakfast?" Molly asked, gently rustling the blankets.

"Oh, what's the point?" Ruth bemoaned, turning her pale face away.

"We wanna keep you well, honey," Molly now sat on the edge, "Come on, get up. We have fresh clothes for you."

"Where on earth did you find my clothes?" Ruth looked towards Molly.

"They aren't yours," Molly smiled, "They were generously given to you by another passenger."

"Oh God, no," Ruth now turned her back on Molly and buried her face in her pillows, "I refuse to wear _donated _clothes. Where is there a maid on this God forsaken ship?" Ruth lifted her head, some loose wisps of hair dangling in her face, "Get one of them to iron the creases out of my current dress. I'll just wear that."

"You know what, I'll bring you some breakfast. Would you like coffee or orange juice with that?" Molly stood up again and ruffled her overcoat. Ruth did not reply, she simply laid with her back to Molly. The woman let out a defeated sigh and left the room to go to the dining hall.

She seated herself at a table by her lonesome and ordered some french toast with eggs along with a coffee. Molly had known hard times in her childhood. She had by no means known luxuriance or comfort before she met her husband. The _Titanic _was indeed a set back and, luckily, her own son had survived by taking one of the last lifeboats as it was leaving only half-full. But Molly knew better than to allow herself to dread on mishaps.

Molly was suddenly drawn from her thoughts by the blur of black across the room. Entering the dining hall from the deck was Cal. He was still wearing his dishevelled suit, ripped, wrinkled, stained with blood. His face was creased with exhaustion. When he entered, he glanced around. When his eyes settled on Molly, he did not move. After he shuffled his feet for a few moments, he crossed to her table.

"Is this seat occupied?" He asked sheepishly.

"No," Molly said after swallowing some coffee and licking her ruby lips. Cal glanced around once more before he seated himself with Molly Brown. The ever-attendant waiter immdiately took his order for coffee and jam toast, "Nice to see you, Cal."

He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. He placed his elbows on the table and pressed his fists to his mouth, "Likewise. I assume all is well?"

"I'm alive, ain't I?" Molly smiled, sipping more coffee daintily, "Enough with formalities, though. Is there a reason for this breakfast date? I don't mean to be blunt, but we'd only dine at social occassions together on the _Titanic."_

Cal heaved a sigh as their breakfast was placed in front of them. The waiter bowed politely and went to attend to other passengers now making their slow crawl into the dining hall. Cal cut his toast in half and stared at it. He wasn't very hungry, but he knew his body needed something. Cal looked up to Molly, who had no problem burying her french toast in syrup and eating it.

"Where is Ruth? I figured she'd be here parading about since she thinks she's immortal."

"Ruth is not doin' well, sug," Molly replied without even looking up.

"Is she ill?" He asked, forcing himself to chew on his toast.

"Well, not physically," Molly shook her head, "With Rose gone, she's been really depressive."

Cal stared into the murky mug of coffee, Rose's name echoing through his mind. _I want you to pretend you didn't see me... _Cal slowly picked another slice of toast up and looked at Molly. He felt so foreign in his body at that moment. He found himself double thinking his actions. He wanted to obey Rose's wishes. Cal desperately wanted Rose back and it wasn't for his own selfish reasons. Rose was, indeed, his bridge to success in his business world. But he wanted Rose to return to him because deep down inside, Cal loved Rose. Through everything that had happened, he had realized he was a fool. He ached for Rose, for familiarity. He was hurt by her actions on the _Titanic. _Cal always thought he was king, yet Rose had kicked the fake crown off his head and had exposed him, but he wasn't angry at her. The double thinking was back again, though. Was Cal not angry because he was still reeling from the tragic accident? Was Cal simply carved out, too tired, too frustrated, to care?

"I imagine it's taken a toll on her," Cal finally said, the toast scraping down his throat.

"It's hard to imagine she's actually gone," Molly flashed a sad frown, "Such a pretty girl. So much potential. How are you handling it?"

"I don't know," Cal shook his head, now resigning himself to coffee. He couldn't bring himself to eat one more thing. It all felt tasteless, like ash inside his mouth, "I just want to be back on land."

"With this weather, I figure we still have another day or so," Molly told him, her fork scraping against her plate as she gathered the last of the eggs up and ate them, "Ruth and I are staying here in a first class suite, number 103, if you'd like to stop by."

"I have nothing to say to Ruth," Cal said, not even bothering to look up from his coffee.

"I imagine not," Molly replied, "Where are you staying?"

Cal heaved a sigh, "Anywhere there's a free bed."

A loud crack of thunder rang out making the whole ship vibrate. Dishes and cutlery clattered together across the dining hall. Many guests gazed upwards and returned to their quiet chatter, shaking their heads as they spoke. Cal put his half-finished coffee on the table and rubbed his eyes deeply. He then looked to Molly who was patiently sitting across from him, adding sugar cubes to her coffee, trying to make herself feel normal again. Every survivor seemed to have a chill to them that they were unable to shake.

"I need to take another walk," Cal announced, standing up. He did his best to muster up his first-class manners, "Thank you for allowing me to dine with you."

"If you need anything," Molly looked up with a light in her brown eyes, "don't hesistate to ask."


	3. Regretful Fools

Chapter Three

_April 16th, 1912_  
_Atlantic Ocean_

By early afternoon, the sky had opened up. Rain pelted the ship, making it rock. Many people could be heard being violently sea sick in buckets and out of port holes in the third-class lounge area. It was a rather spacious room with not-so-incredible furniture. Nothing had a fresh coat, it all seemed so dull. Rose was seated in a lounge chair, her head tilted back. She luckily had never been one to be sea sick, but the repercussions of her hypothermia made her whole body ache.

Many injured passengers laid scattered across the floors with thin goosedown pillows and wool blankets. Some were curled into balls, others spread out, moaning and groaning. Rose had grown extremely tired from her movements. She had used the last of energy trying to catch the faces of everyone splayed out on the floor. She was hoping to see someone familiar, but unfortunately, all the faces were of strangers. Rose pulled her thin wool blanket up to her shoulders and turned on her side. In the chair beside her was a woman in a dingy dress with frizzy blonde hair still pulled back into two thick braids that dangled off the side of her lounge chair. She slowly cocked her pale head to the side to take a look at Rose.

"Sick?" She asked with a heavy German accent. Rose tilted her head up.

"Recovering," Rose replied with a scratchy voice, "What about you?"

"Sea-sick," The woman confirmed, touching her belly gently, "I am with child."

"Were you... on the _Titanic_?" Rose propped herself up on her elbow, "I... I think I've seen you."

"Ja, I'd never forget you," The woman said, "You were at the steerage party."

The woman's words made a rush of memories flood into Rose's mind. She could see the steerage party again. It was so hot from all the bodies, so hazy from all the smoking, and so sticky from all the spilt beer. Rose saw the men slamming cards on to tables, arm wrestling, anything to win petty coin. She could hear the clatter of leather sole shoes on the wooden dance floor. The band was playing excitedly, laughing and drinking beers between their notes. And that's when Rose saw Jack. His suit was undone, his collar was loosely waving back and forth against his neck. He was smiling so brightly, his eyes showing Rose the future she had always dreamed of. They were jumping around the dance floor, darting between dance partners. Just behind Jack, Rose could see the woman with the thick blond braids. She was sitting in the lap of a man, a cigarette in her lips. Rose blinked and touched her temple lightly.

"I remember seeing you, too," Rose replied.

"Your husband... the blond one..." The woman turned on her side to see Rose better, "Is he here?"

_My husband... _Rose lowered her eyes slowly, "I don't know..."

"My husband is dead," The woman said, "We were coming to America for the baby. I wish this ship would turn around."

"Me too..." Rose replied. She reached her hand across and touched the woman ever so gently, "I really wish it would turn around."

...

When Molly returned with breakfast for Ruth, she was still laying in bed. She had tears sliding down her cheeks now. When she saw Molly enter, she sharply turned her back away, trying her best to conceal her tears and muffle her sniffles. Molly set the breakfast of eggs, sausage, and orange juce on the night table and sat on the edge of the bed, as if she was tending to a moody teenager.

"Ruth, honey," Molly reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. Ruth tensed at the touch and jerked away from her, "Ruth, what's wrong, dear?"

"What a question!" Ruth huffed, curling into a ball.

"You'll feel better if you talk about it."

"What do you know?!" Ruth sneered.

Molly took a deep breath, reminding herself it was the grief talking. With renewed patience, she leaned closer to Ruth, "I know a thing or two about sufferin'. It ain't good to just hole it all up inside, Ruth. It will eat you alive."

Ruth was silent and unmoving for a few moments before she turned her tear stained face towards Molly. She looked so utterly tired, frail, and vulnerable. Her hair was a mess. Molly knew no one ever saw Ruth like this. Molly did her best to muster up an encouraging smile, hopeful Ruth would succumb to her words. Ruth let out a sigh and looked to the dull ceiling above, where the sound of pelting rain could be heard.

"I just realized..." Ruth's voice cracked slightly, "A lot of pictures I had of Rose were on the _Titanic," _She let out an aggravated sigh, balling the comforter up in her hands, "I was a fool the last night aboard the ship, Molly. I thought we were meerly practicing a drill. I didn't think it would actually sink. I assumed we'd be lowered and then taken back on. I... I didn't try to take anything with me. I don't care about my clothes... I just wish I had those photographs," Ruth now sat up, hunched over. Molly rushed to get a glass of orange juice into her hand. To her content, Ruth drank some, "I suppose... I'm just having a lot of regret right now. I'm so foolish."

"Don't say that," Molly shook her head, "You're not a fool, Ruth."

"But I am. I didn't think bad things would ever happen to me. I... I thought I was priviledged, immune, to the terrible things that happened in this world simply because I had a deep coin purse. And now, I've lost all of it. The last of my fortune... my daughter... all my security. I have nothing left," Ruth brought her hand to her mouth as fresh tears sprang to her eyes again, "I don't even care about the damned fortunes. I just want Rose back. I want her back so bad, Molly," Ruth choked slight on her tears before she mechanically turned her head to Molly, "My last sight of Rose is not something I want to remember."

Molly tried to think back to their final moments gazing onto the deck of the _Titanic _from the lifeboat, "What, her refusal to get on the boat?"

"More than that," Ruth croaked after another sip of juice, "She refused to get on. Cal had tried to convince her, but do you know what she said?" Ruth looked to Molly again. The woman thought for a moment before she shook her head, "She told Cal she'd rather be that _rat's _whore than Cal's wife and spat right in his eye," Ruth heaved a sigh and closed her wet eyes slowly, "It's all I can hear of her voice. Those words. And then my blood rushes as I think about the lifeboat lowering without her. She rightfully should have been at my side. She was nothing short of a first-class princess."

"You raised Rose to your best abilities," Molly told her soothingly, "But you have to remember, Ruth, she had a mind of her own. Her own wants and desires."

"I refuse to believe Rose was acting with her own self in mind," Ruth replied quickly, her eyes snapping open, "_He _had her brainwashed. I don't know what that con-artist said to her, but Rose was under some sort of command. She had never acted out like that before. That was _not _my daughter, Molly."

Thunder made the ship shudder as the two women sat in silence. Molly looked towards the window at the violent sea, white capped waves rushing against the side of their new ship. Her mind momentarily wandered out to sea. Back towards the last sighting of the _Titanic_. She shuddered at the thought of the lifeless bodies left behind. Molly shut the thoughts down before she imagined Rose's slender figure being swallowed deep into the unknown.

Ruth placed her juice on the night table and laid back down, turning her back to Molly. She again huddled into her mountains of blankets and pillows, "Please, leave me alone," She said with a voice lacking any emotion, "I wish to be by myself."

"I'll be in the sitting room," Molly stood up and walked to the window, "If you feel like it, please join me. We can have something warm to eat." Molly lingered for a moment more, but it became clear Ruth had nothing more to say. Molly left without another word.

...

Rose and her new found friend, Lena now sat on a small balcony that everyone in the third class had to share. Not many people lingered, but luckily it was covered. The women sat on chairs against the wall, cool mists of the rain occasionally gliding over their pale skin.

"... Haans and I were wed in the mountains of Basil, Switzerland," Lena was saying. Rose was incredibly impressed with her English and was holding onto every word of her story, "We then moved to Frankfurt am Main. He worked trade as a pharmacist. America seemed so amazing to us. A dreamland. When we learned I was with child, we just knew it was our excuse to start over. To be sure our child had every opportunity we didn't."

"Wow," Rose said, shaking her head. She glanced out towards the sea as lightening illuminated behind the clouds, followed by a rumble of thunder, "That's just... so amazing, Lena. You were so lucky."

"I was," Lena said with a strong voice, "I really was lucky," She sipped some water from the glass in her lap and looked to Rose, "What about your husband, the blond one?"

"Oh... he actually wasn't my husband," Rose felt a deep ache in her belly.

"A lover, then?" She pressed.

"I think so, yes," Rose replied, "I had only just met him on the _Titanic_. His name was Jack."

"Jack Dawson, ja, I know the one," Lena nodded, looking at the sea.

"Have you seen him?" Rose's heart skipped a beat.

"Not on this ship, no," Lena said to Rose's disappointment, "He stayed in the room across the hall from my husband and I on the _Titanic_, though. Nice lad."

"I was really lucky to have met him," Rose lowered her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. She was clinging to the images of him at the steerage party. They were the only memories her brain shared that she actually wanted to see. She lifted her head to meet Lena's eyes, "I was trapped in an engagement. One that... I did not want. To a man who had no interest in me. The whole wedding was arranged to save my parent's failing estate," Rose took a deep breath, surprised the topic upset her as much as it did. Lena waited patiently, detecting her pain, "I know somewhere inside of me... I wanted to save my family. My father died in winter of 1909 due to medical conditions he succumb to. His business was liquidated shortly after that. My mother and I lived off the savings until I was arranged to marry a man in spring of 1911. I was promised away, traded like nothing more than a sack of flour," Rose knitted her eyebrows together, "It was not a healthy relationship by any means. I was full of dread at the thought that it could possibly be my forever-after. We had been travelling in Europe for the better part of last year and this. We were travelling back for the wedding on the _Titanic_."

"What date is the wedding?" Lena asked, cradling her head in her hand.

Rose closed her eye, remembering those awful lacy invitations her mother had done up and mailed out to the guests. All two-hundred twenty-two of them. She remembered the long list of unfamiliar names. People who probably couldn't even give a damn about the wedding itself. Anywhere they could appear, that was fine with them, "It's April 25th."

"Not much time," Lena clucked her tongue, "What will you do, Rose?"

"I... I couldn't possibly marry Cal," Rose seemed so weak at the thought, "After everything that has happened. Here I am... I survived. How could I even think of just giving myself away?"

"... Do you think Jack is alive?" Lena asked quietly. The storm nearly carried her voice away.

Rose watched the ocean for quite awhile after that question. She didn't know what to think about Jack. She _wanted _to hope he was alive, but her body was in so much pain, her brain completely overtaken, that she didn't want to hold onto that hope. She didn't want to dangle her heart from a rope, only to have it fall and shatter. Rose looked down to her fingers, where she fideted with her nails, "I really don't know," She finally croaked.

"Why don't we take a walk?" Lena brought herself to her feet, "Do you feel you have the energy?" Lena offered Rose her hand. Rose thought for a moment before she also stood, draped a blanket over her shoulders, and followed Lena back inside to the lounge room.

...

Cal wandered aimlessly through what seemed like a never ending maze of hallways. First class seemed so direct, so wide, so grand compared to second class. The hallways grew narrower and shorter. It almost felt like a gerbil cage. Cal pressed passed people who openly took up the hallway. There were more people lying around on the ground there then in first class. There just didn't seem to be enough beds. Cal rounded a corner and stepped over a young man splayed across the floor with skin the color of bed linens.

He finally found the gate that indicated third class. He pulled the gate back and descended the steps to the barren third class. It really looked to be a ship down in steerage. The hallways were lined with people. Some found room to lay down and rest. Many were sat up against the walls with pillows tucked behind their backs so they could attempt to sleep. It was simply overcrowded.

_How could Rose find this the true meaning of comfort? _Cal thought as he gently snaked through the sea of arms and legs in his path towards the dining hall as indicated on the wall. Many people threw double-looks at him. Even dishevelled and exhausted, Cal still eminated a symbolic status of wealth. Cal glanced into the small bunk rooms as he passed. Upwards to three people were sharing one bed per bunk. It almost made Cal feel bad, especially when half of the first-class hadn't even had to give up just one of their beds to accomodate the extra passengers.

Cal entered a large spacious room. The long tables and benches had been pushed together in one half of the room. The rest was overflow from the infirmary. Many nurses were scurrying around, calling after doctor's, trying to relay information. They were overrun with passengers in need of medical attention. Cal looked to each person carefully in the room, taking extra time to examine people wearing hoods. He was sure Rose would stick out to him. There was not a single red head in the room. Cal decided to continue towards the lounge room just on the other side.

He walked beside the outer row of patients. Many of these patients were unconscious or shrivelling in pain. Sometimes, it was easy to spot the ailments. Some passengers from the _Titanic _had been struck by furniture, flying objects, or simply trampled in the mania. The people Cal had seen laying on the floor before looked to be alright. These beds had been reserved for those truly in need. Cal stopped in his tracks, however. He cocked his head sideways just a bit to look three rows in. Cal wound around the beds towards the one he had his eyes glued on.

Cal leaned over to get a closer look at the patient. Slowly, he began to grow numb. It was Jack Dawson, he was sure. His lips were faintly purple, his skin deathly pale. He was unconscious, his chest rising and falling deeply. Cal looked around the room almost frantically in that moment. _He's alive? He actually lived?! _Cal pressed his hand to his temple. He couldn't even comprehend what that meant. Cal glanced to both doorways in a paranoid fashion. _If Rose finds out he's alive, there's no chance for me to get her back. There would be no question she'd choose Dawson over me. _Cal paused when he saw Jack's wrists. Handcuffs still glinted despite the tradgedy, almoust sinfully. He shook his head and again studied his face to be sure it really was him. _No doubt, that's him. Even frozen half-way to death I can tell. What is it about this penniless chump that's so much better than me? He's younger... the blond hair might be a perk, but he doesn't gel it. He puts in no effort. Why would a woman like Rose even want to be with someone who lacked an entrepenurial spirit? He'd never be able to give her central heating or buy her those ridiculous paintings she loves to drabble on about._ Cal knitted his eyebrows together as he gazed down on Jack, examining his face. He noticed he had an old fleshy scar on his ear. And a small crease in his forehead above where his eyebrows rest. _Who knows? _Cal thought, still leaned over Jack, _Maybe he'll never wake up. Maybe he'll succumb to his hypothermia. He is in the intense treatment area. He might actually die._ But then Cal thought about Rose.

He thought about how that would affect her. _What is wrong with me? _He shook his head, _She would be devastated, absolutely. But it would be my chance to win her back. You have to understand, Dawson... I loved her first. And you know me; I'm very territorial. I want my Rose. I'll do anything to prove I am what's best for her. I don't know why it took a fool like you, but I gotta say, Dawson, you've really given me a run for my money..._

"Excuse me, sir, is he your family?" A nurse asked, wiping her blood-stained hands as she approached him. Cal arched his eyebrows at first before looking back to Jack slowly, "If he's your family, we'd love to move him to your room so you can continue treatment for us. We've many other patients waitin' to be seen in these beds."

"Y... yes," Cal choked out, "I can take him."


	4. Hide and Seek

Chapter Four

_April 17th, 1912_  
_Atlantic Ocean_

Cal had enough money in his wallet to convince a second-class couple to give their room up to him and his "dear sick brother". Cal awoke that morning and drew the curtains back to another gloomy day. It was not raining, however. With force, Cal pushed the window up. He pulled himself a stool up and lit a cigarette. The cool air felt good against his skin. As he smoked, he glanced to the bed situated across from his, on the other side of the window. Jack was still sleeping soundly in it. He didn't seem as pale that morning.

The doctor had insisted Jack was only in a temporary coma as his body fought to bring his temperatures back up. The doctor presented a positive outcome for Jack. His body temperature had been rising steadily since his rescue from the frigid Atlantic waters. Now all Cal had to do was feed him. Cal heaved a sigh and tapped some ash out the window.

_Look at the mess you've gotten us into, Dawson... _

Cal wasn't quite sure of his next steps. He had only brought Jack here to keep him from Rose's sight. Now what would he do when the man woke up? Jack was an insistent man, stubborn as Cal was. Cal was certain Jack would want to walk around the ship.

_How can I keep him from being active? _Cal thought, holding his cigarette to his lips, his eyes hovering over the still man, _Perhaps I can put him in a similar state as Ruth? That woman won't even get out of bed and make an attempt to search for Rose. Maybe... just maybe, I can convince Jack that Rose is dead. Put him in a stupor. Keep him concealed here until this damned ship docks._

Cal tapped his finger to his chin, deep in thought. Luckily he had slept through an entire night and some of the fog shrouding his brain had been lifted. He was by no means operating at full capacity, however. Cal stood, tucking his cigarette between his lips. He approached Jack, crossing his arms over his chest. _I could just... fail to take care of him. Let him die. No one would be none the wiser. _Cal watched over Jack for a moment before he lowered his cigarettes and hunched his shoulders.

_I can't do that. It would be murder._

Cal sat back down on his stool and bobbed his knee impatiently, _I have to convince him that Rose is dead. Extinguish any hope he may have. Then once the ship docks, he'll be off on his merry adventure all over again. He'll never look Rose's name up again. Maybe I can make it even more fun and really place the burden of her death on his shoulders. You've made my life hell, Dawson. Welcome to my own little game. A game where I am always the champion._

...

"Ruth, darlin', are you awake?" Molly peaked into the bedroom from the sitting room. Ruth was still laying in bed, her back facing away from everything, "It is absolutely refreshing outside. I think you and I should take a stroll. Enjoy the morning before the rain comes back."

"Go without me," Ruth muttered in utter despair.

"I really think you should get up," Molly approached the bedside and placed her hands on her hips, "Ruth you've been lying there for nearly three days. You're going to get bedsores if you don't get up and stretch. Fresh air will do you well."

"I don't want to go," Ruth raised her head to meet her eyes, "I'm fine here."

"So, what, you're just going to lie in bed until we dock? Are you also just going to lay here and let the ship take you to Austria?" Molly asked.

"I would like to be alone," Ruth said with a voice of ice. She laid her head back down, her face hidden from Molly's gaze, "I don't want fresh air, I don't want any tea... I just don't want anything. What is so hard to understand about that?"

"I'm worried about you," Molly told her, "You lay here, day and night. You only rise to use the bathroom. Don't you think you'd feel much better after a bath? A nice meal? You gotta get the blood flowin', honey."

"I don't have to do anything," Ruth sneered.

"Rose wouldn't allow for you to just lay around like this."

"Don't you speak her name!" Ruth sat up lightening fast, her eyes wide, her mouth pursed, "I don't want to hear her name spoken ever again!"

"Well now you're actin' crazy," Molly shook her head, "What is going on, Ruth? Would you like to go to the infirmary?"

"Absolutely not. Don't treat me like I'm some lunatic," Ruth clutched the blankets in her hand, her white nightgown wrinkled and in need of a wash, "I've had time to think. And I certainly don't have to sit here and explain any of it to you. I'd simply like to be left alone!" Ruth laid back down now, "Why don't you go enjoy the rest of your vacation?"

Molly stared at her for a moment more, a perplexed expression on her face. She then shook her head and left, grabbing her parcel so she could go take the fresh morning air by herself.

...

Rose had her blanket draped over her head as she sat outside on the deck. The morning air felt so wonderful. She wondered if the clouds were going to unleash on her. She sat on the higher portion of the deck. Several other people also sat up top, taking in the fresh salty air before the predictable bad weather closed in on them for the rest of the day.

Nearby a group of men had pushed some benches together and were playing cards. They were so exhilerated and drawn in. Rose kept her face tucked deep inside her blanket, her hair pulled back to not even allow the smallest smidgen of red to escape. She grinned to herself, however, at the sounds of their hooting and hollering as the game got intense.

In front of her, a couple was watching the sea together, their arms intertwined. They were speaking quietly, their words not reaching Rose's ear. Slowly, their fingers interlaced, feeling each inch of their skin. Rose sighed and closed her eyes. When she did, however, she was greeted with a beautiful sunset before her. She could hear the _Titanic _slicing powerfully through the ocean. And that's when she felt Jack's calloused hands gently playing with hers. _Come Josephine in my flying machine... _Rose felt hot tears prick behind her eyelids.

"Come Josephine... in my flying machine," Rose whispered unevenly to herself within her blanket, "Up she goes... up she goes..." Jack's face was at the fore front of her mind. She let out a long sigh as tears escaped her eyes, "Dammit, Jack... where are you? You can't be lost at sea. That's just... That's not like you."

"Well, hiya, boys! Beautiful mornin'. Glad to see you taking advantage of it!"

Rose knew that voice. She felt paralyzed beneath her blanket. Slowly, to not draw attention, Rose slightly pulled her hood back, peaking one green eye around the edge of the blanket. It was Molly Brown. She was wearing a grey velvet dress with black boots and a wide floppy black hat. Rose immediately drew back into her blanket, her breath hitched in her throat. She remained absolutely still, as if she was an animal being hunted.

"Mornin', miss. Jus' tryin' to pass the time," One of the men replied.

"I hear that," Molly Brown laughed ferociously loud, "Have a great day, boys!"

"You, too, mum," The man said.

Rose listened to Molly's heels clunk on the deck. They grew closer and closer to her. Rose hunched forward wishing she could just disappear. She felt her stomach muscles constricting inside her, her breathing shallow. Her hands curled tightly into fists, her nails digging into her palms. Molly's boots were so loud, each step rattled Rose's brain.

"Hey, missy, I hope you start feelin' well again," Molly's hand came to rest squarely on Rose's shoulder. She tensed at the touch, nearly jerking away. Molly gave her a squeeze, "We'll get through this together."

Rose tried to nod her head enough to let Molly know she had observed what she said. She knew Molly was simply a friendly soul. She remembered aboard the _Titanic, _Molly greeted every person she passed. Rose assumed she did the same on her walks at home.

"Are you alright? Should you be out here?" Molly asked, leaning closer.

Rose squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on her lip until she tasted copper.

"Ma'am?" Molly now drew her blanket back. Upon doing so, she gasped sharply and immediately came around the bench to sit beside Rose. Rose was only staring straight down at the boards holding the deck up. She couldn't bear look at Molly, especially in the state she was in. A raggly dress with less-than-fabulous hair, "Rose, honey," Molly pressed her hands to her cheeks and directed their eyes to meet, "Rose, oh my God. You remember me, right?"

"Hello, Mrs. Brown," Rose said as calmly as possible. On the inside, she was screaming.

"I'm so glad to see you, oh my God," Molly pressed her hand to her chest, "I'm sorry. You've just given me quite the fright. Almost like I've seen a ghost. Rose, I thought you were dead. Your mother! Oh, you must come with me to your mother's bedroom. She so desperately needs to see you," Molly gripped Rose's hand firmly, "Rose, she is catatonic. She hasn't gotten out of bed since we've arrived on the ship and I am _not _over exaggerating. She thinks you're dead, she's absolutely lost her mind."

"My mother? Missing me?" Rose seemed surprise.

"All she wants right now is you," Molly insisted.

"Molly..." Rose closed her eyes, heaving a sigh, "I... No."

"What?" Molly was caught off-guard. Rose was surprised, too, by her brashness.

"You have to pretend you never saw me."

"Rose, what on earth? Why would I want to do that?" Molly's eyes darted around for a moment, "Is Jack here...?"

"No... well, I don't know," Rose shook her head, "I just don't know anything, I'm sorry."

"Rose, you can't pretend you're dead. Your mother will die from her grief by the way she's chosen to deal with it. She hasn't bathed or eaten. She doesn't even read or stitch in bed. She simply lays there in darkness, curled in a ball, stewing in her emotions," Molly shook her head breathlessly.

"I can't go back to that life, Molly," Rose croaked, her eyes desperate.

"And why not? What happened on _Titanic _is a thing of the past, honey. No bridges were burned, I promise. Everyone just wants to know you're okay."

Rose stood up now, backing away from Molly, "They may not have burned the bridges, but I did." Rose hurried down the steps and through the door to escape to another part of the ship. Molly looked out to the ocean in utter confusion.

For the sake of Ruth, Molly could not let this go. She rushed to her feet and hurried through the same door to return to her room.

...

Rose had left her blanket behind in some stairwell, she couldn't remember where. She was in such a hurried frenzy to get away from Molly. She felt as if a spotlight had just exposed her. Rose kicked her ruined pumps off at some point as well, racing down the stairs in white stockings. Her body simply told her to move, to run into the darkness. She whipped the second class gate open and twirled through. She flipped the lock over, glancing up the stairwell while panting. She didn't underestimate Molly Brown to pursue her. Rose turned around and ran straight into someone, making her screech.

She staggered back, pushing her hair from her face. It was Cal, who seemed surprise to see her.

"Rose," He stuttered, "Pleasant running into you."

Rose said nothing. She only stared back, her nostrils flared as she caught her breath. She looked over her shoulder to see a vacant stairwell. She now assumed Molly had not followed her. Rose looked down to her stocking feet, then back up at Cal.

"I was just going to get lunch. Would you like to join me?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

"I'm... not hungry," Rose said, steadily stepping around him.

"Rose, I... I want to talk," Cal reached out for her but she deftly evaded his hand.

"What is there to talk about?" Rose had to whisper. She felt so exhausted, physically and mentally. She was sure the ship was driving her crazy. She craved for land. Endless miles to be covered, putting her away from what she so desperately craved to escape.

"The future, Rose."

"I... I have to be going," Rose whispered, turning away and darting down the stairs.

"Rose, wait!" Cal called after her, but he knew better than to chase her. He let out a huff and crossed his arms over his chest, _When we dock, that will be my chance. When she sees the port of New York City, she'll feel small, I'm certain. She can't survive out there on her own. I don't want her to._ He flared his nostrils in discontent and continued upwards to the first class diner. He was hungry... and he supposed Dawson should probably eat, too.


	5. The Search Party

Chapter Five

_April 17th, 1912_  
_Atlantic Ocean_

Molly entered the sitting room of their first class suite quietly. Her nostrils were flared, her shoulders heaving, as she attempted to catch her breath. She had barrelled down nearly three flights of stairs. The _Titanic _was easily twice the size of the _Carpathia_, but it seemed to tire Molly out even more. The hostess, Tillie, was there, reading a novel. She was curled up on the couch, her lavendar dress dangling off the side, skimming the carpet. Tillie looked up when Molly entered.

"Hello, Molly," She greeted pleasantly, "How was the morning air?"

"Just fine," Molly replied stiffly, approaching the furniture gathered in the center of room.

"Why, you look like you've seen a ghost," Tillie said, staring at the wide-eyed Molly.

"I think I have, Tillie," Molly nodded, "Where is Ruth?"

"Where she's been since you've arrived," Tillie waved her hand, "She's in bed. I tried to give her some tea, but she just grew angry and threw a fit."

"I... I apologize for that," Molly blinked rapidly and attempted to compose herself, "I think I'll just have a word with her. If you'll excuse me," Molly crossed to Ruth's door without even waiting for a response from Tillie. She didn't even bother to gently rap on the door, she simply barged in. Ruth had the curtains drawn to darkness. The light of the sitting room crossed and illuminated the back of Ruth. Even facing away she reacted to the yellow glare by curling into a tighter ball. Molly closed the door quickly and drew in a deep breath.

Her heels thunked on the brocade carpet. She felt like she was getting no closer to the bed. It seemed so far away. When Molly did approach the side, she had to close her eyes and summon the courage to say the words trying to explode out her lips. _You have to pretend you never saw me. I can't go back to that life..._

"Ruth," Molly said, her strong voice nearly cracking. Ruth said nothing. She didn't even move, "Ruth, I have something very important to tell you. May I please turn the lamp on?"

After a moment, Ruth finally moved her shoulder. She moved heavily, slowly, as she turned over. Molly could barely make her face out, "If you must," Ruth's voice was scratchy. Molly leaned over and slowly eased the knob. The gas lamp came to life and illuminated the side of Ruth's face. Like a vampire, she cringed away at the light. Molly sat down on the edge of the bed and heaved a sigh.

"Ruth... Rose is alive."

"What?" Ruth was sitting straight up in a moments notice. Despite being in bed the entire time, she looked to be compltely depraved of any sleep.

"I just saw her... on the deck," Molly continued, wondering if it was such a good idea telling her. After she had finished running to the destination of her mission, she began thinking back on Rose's words. Her very eyes. They were so red with tears, frustration, and lack of sleep. She was so withdrawn yet so vulnerable.

"Where is she right now?" Ruth swung her legs from bed and snagged her wrinkly dress off the end of her bed post, "I have to see her, Molly."

"I don't know where she went," Molly stood up as Ruth stripped and changed without even a second thought. Molly was caught off-guard by the openess, "She may be staying in a different class."

"We'll start in second, then," Ruth said, zipping her dress up and turning to Molly, "We'll work our way down the entire ship. Every single passenger must be examined. We must find her, Molly, before we dock. You swear you saw her? This isn't some elaborate rouge to get me from bed?"

"No, actually," Molly shook her head, "I saw her, Ruth, and... she looked unwell."

"Was she alone?" Ruth asked, crossing to the mirror and repinning her curly red hair.

"Yes, she was," Molly replied, "She said she doesn't know what happened to Jack."

"Good," Ruth sneered, fluffing her hair in the mirror.

...

Cal sat in lounge chair, his feet propped up on an ottoman. He was simply watching Jack closely. It was early afternoon and Jack still had not woken from his slumber. Cal was eating a roast beef sandwich as he watched him, occasionally sipping on some brandy.

Suddenly, a noise outside his room drew him to the door. There seemed to be some kind of static radio going off. People laying in the hallways looked up is discontent. Slowly, more doors creaked open as people stepped out to investigate the noise.

"Hello, this is your captain," Came a voice from a horn, "I am on intercom to announce to you the ship is projected to dock tomorrow evening in New York City. We have reports of heavy rain within our path, possibly choppy seas. Please, continue activities as planned."

There was a high pitched squealing as the captain hung up his end of the intercom.

Cal kicked the door shut behind him and crossed to the end of Jack's bed. The man hadn't even stirred at the noise. Cal cocked an eyebrow up, _If he's still out this cold by the time we dock... I think I'll just pawn him off on some nurse. _

Cal went back to his seat to resume the rest of his roast beef sandwich and brandy. As he chewed away, his eyes went back to hovering over Jack, _This might be easy afterall. I probably won't even have to worry about him after we dock. He'll be rushed away to lay forgotten in some hospital in New York... Hell, maybe they'll overlook him if I just leave him here and he'll end up in Austria. I just need to focus on convincing Rose to come back to Philidelphia with me._

He smirked as he brushed some crumbs from his mouth.

...

Rose was sitting on the floor of Lena's bunkroom, which she shared with four other people. An Irish couple were resigned to sharing a top bunk together. The man lay atop beside his wife, pressing a damp rag to her forehead, as she had been sick for majority of the their trip.

Rose was huddled in a wool blanket, her chin resting on her knees. Lena was sitting in the bottom bunk, pillows propping up her shoulders and lower back. She was rubbing his swelling stomach, looking down at Rose on the floor, almost maternally.

"She saw me, Lena..." Rose shook her head, "She's going to tell my mom I'm alive."

"What can your mother do to you?" Lena shrugged, lifting her head slightly, "She can't make you go back to them. Your mother should walk a mile in your shoes."

"Oh, she'll make me go back," Rose sighed, "Even if I'm kicking and screaming."

"Rose," Lena sat foward, gripping her shoulders, "You should stay in my room tonight. Here, we can share a bed. Your mother will never find you tucked away in my bed," Lena gave her arm a tug. Rose looked up at her, "Let's lay down and take a nap. We both need it."

Rose finally nodded and resigned herself to following Lena's suggestion. She clambered into bed beside Lena and sunk her head into a pillow. She released a heavy sigh and then reached for Lena's hand, giving it a squeeze, "Thank you," She whispered.

"All is well, my friend," Lena replied.

...

"... she has red vibrant hair," Ruth was telling a woman in the second-class hallway, "It's typically curly. She has pale skin and green eyes. She's very slender. She may have been wearing a blue and white dress. Possibly a ring on her left hand with a very large diamond."

"Mmmm, I don't think I've seen anyone of that description," The woman replied, tapping her finger to her chin, "I think I would have remembered a red headed girl."

"I see... Thank you for your time," Ruth said politely. On the inside, however, she was growing impatient and angry. She turned towards Molly to see she was also getting shakes of the head from two men who were cradling their dinners in their arms. Molly walked towards Ruth with a look of defeat. Ruth let out a huff and crossed her arms over chest, "Are you sure you saw her, Molly?! I'm beginning to think this was all one farce!"

"I saw her," Molly insisted, growing agitated from Ruth's pestering, "Like I said, I spoke with her. She remembered me."

"She's no where to be found in second-class. I think I've looked in just about every room here!" Ruth let out a huff, throwing her arms to her side stiffly, "Where could she be?"

"Why don't we try the third-class?" Molly suggested, "We better hurry, too. Dusk is setting in. Soon, we'll be shaking people from their sleep to ask them."

"Steerage?" Ruth scrunched her nose up, but then she paused, "... No, you may be on to something with that thought, Molly. Rose probably _is _in steerage. Let's hurry."

Ruth found the stairwell leading down. Together, the women's pumps thunked on the stairs. Ruth flipped the lock over and went down the stairs that rounded a corner. When she got to steerage, she paused, looking at the many people littering the floor. The smell was awful. It was loud. It was hot. It was hideous. Ruth looked around, dismayed by her surroundings. Even Molly seemed very discomforted by what she saw.

"It's all just a bunch of sick and dying people," Ruth shook her head, "How on earth could Rose stand to stay down here?! She was raised in the greatest comfort, yet she thinks this is better? This is all that rat's fault."

"Ruth," Molly grabbed her shoulder, turning the red headed woman towards her, "if I'm going to continue to help you, I must ask that you please refer to him by his God-given name. It's Jack. He was a human with feelings and thoughts of his own."

Ruth smacked Molly's hand away from her, "You're joking, right? He doesn't deserve to be called by his name. He's a rat, Molly. A dirty, scummy con-artist who was nothing more than garbage. He didn't even own much more than that."

Molly was sure her jaw had hit the ground, "What is wrong with you? Have you no empathy for anybody you see as below you?"

"I don't have to answer to you," Ruth sneered, "We're wasting our time and breath on him."

"I'm going back upstairs," Molly announced, her face tinged red, "I really need to be away from you right now."

"How dare you," Ruth's hands curled into fists, "How could expect me to feel bad for that peasant? He brainwashed my daughter, nearly had her killed, and you think I could actually comprehend that maybe he was a good person!? Everything was going perfectly according to plan before he came along and hurt my daughter."

"Jack never hurt Rose!" Molly shouted, standing on the stairs platform now. Many people in steerage looked with wildly confused faces at the two first-class women bickering in their hallway, "I know, in a way, he hurt you, crossed you, but you can't make up these lies in your mind to make yourself feel justified. I'm not saying you shouldn't be mad... you have your rights, but you seem to think Rose is completely innocent in all of this. Like he kidnapped her or something. Rose is an adult, Ruth. She can make her own decisions and she willingly took part in this affair."

"_Affair?" _Ruth echoed increduously.

"That's what it was, Ruth. An affair."

"That's such a scandalous word. I don't want it associated with my daughter," Ruth growled, thinking of what she had to protect. It was meager, at best, but all she had left. Molly only shook her head. Ruth felt her temper boiling just beneath her skin, "Just go back upstairs, Molly, I'll do this myself! Just like I've been doing all along, always by myself! I'll find Rose and I'll fix this! Everything has to go according to plan."

"I think you should come back with me and get back in bed," Molly replied, "You need to rest. Walking around as really taken it out of you."

"No, I'm going on without you!" Ruth snapped and began marching down the hallway, hapharzardly stepping over arms and legs carelessly.

...

Rose and Lena were terribly hungry. They had napped for quite some time, neither were sure how long, and had awoken twisted together beneath their woolen blankets, still chilled, and with grumbling stomachs. Dusk was descending, the last of rays of sun gently descending from the rooms. They went to the dining hall and crawled into some benches along the wall with bowls of vegetable soups, bobbing with celery and potatos.

"What will you do once you get to New York City?" Rose asked, giving her soup a stir. She looked to Lena with arched eyebrows as the German woman dug into the soup immediately.

"Haans has cousins in Albany," Lena replied, "I will go on to them. They were expecting us, but now... it will be just me. I'm sure they will still be happy to see me atleast... hopefully provide me support until the baby is born."

"I must say, Lena, you're being incredibly strong despite the circumstances," Rose said, nearly envious of the woman's stability. Lena hadn't once cried and though she spoke of the past slowly, her voice did not falter and her tone suggested she was meerly stating facts rather than stewing over what had happened.

Rose was jealous. She had been a shaking, anxious, crying mess. Her insides constricted at the thought of her mother, Cal, and especially Jack. She could recall every detail of Cal's face, yet her brain shrouded Jack in mystery. She could barely recollect snippets of him. She pleaded her brain to please release them to her, but her brain was smarter. Her brain knew Rose was weak and refused to give her more. Rose was operating at half capacity, stumbling into the unknown, unsure if it was the right way to go. She felt like her life was spiraling out of control.

"I have to be," Lena said, lowering her spoon now, "I'm all I have left in this world. And soon, I'll have an itty-bitty baby to look after. You must understand, I am absolutely devastated about Haans. I yearn for him deeply. But he gave me the best gift of all," Lena pressed her hand to her swelling belly, "This child gives me the motivation to continue. I hope it is a boy. I so desperately want him to bear my husband's name."

Rose felt tears swell in her eyes again and she let out a huff, "I wish I had your strength, Lena. I wish I had something to convince me the future was going to be worth. I... I-" Rose stopped speaking abruptly and her face tinged a shade whiter. Her wide eyes were locked across the room.

"What is it?" Lena perked up, looking over her shoulder.

"It's my mother," Rose whispered, petrified, "She's... she's in third-class."

"So that woman told her?" Lena asked.

"Molly... betrayed me," Rose said, but then scoffed, "Just like I knew she would."

"Lay down, now!" Lena turned towards Rose, "She has not seen you yet. Quick, duck into my lap, I'll place my napkin over your hair." Rose did as she was told immediately. She sunk further than what Lena told her to. She crawled completely under the table, sitting on part of Lena's skirt, "Just be still," Lena said, looking down to her.

Lena watched with pensive eyes as Ruth walked through the room. Her eyes, which matched Rose's, were intense, darting about and examining every person's face. Ruth looked over a grouping of heads and made direct eye contact with Lena. The German woman immediately averted her eyes back to her soup. That's when she noticed Rose's bowl was still on the table beside her. She cursed in her mother tongue under her breath as Ruth began winding through the tables with a purpose.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Ruth said.

"Ja?" Lena replied, raising her eyes cooly.

"Have you seen a woman with red hair, possibly curly, green eyes and pale skin?"

"Ich spreche kein englisch," Lena said.

"Oh... you don't speak English, of course," Ruth sighed, heaving her shoulders. Ruth then pointed to her hair and her eyes, hoping she could get the woman to possibly understand her. Lena slowly pointed to her hair and then her eyes as well. Ruth let out a huff, "I've taken some classes in German... Maybe, uh, rothaarige frau?" She asked, rather sharply.

"Irish?" Lena cocked her head to the side.

"No, we're German, everyone always assumes we're Irish," Ruth clucked her tongue.

"Keine rothaarigen Frauen hier," Lena shook her head, "Es gibt wahrscheinlich einige in der ersten Klasse."

"I don't understand," Ruth grew very irritated, "Thank you for your time. I must be moving on," Ruth walked away without another thought, shaking her head as once again she realized she was defeated. Rose smirked from under the table and looked to Lena, who was already beaming triumphantly at her from above.


	6. Just Sink

Chapter Six

_April 18th, 1912_  
_Atlantic Ocean_

Cal stood on the deck of the _Carpathia _that morning. He held an umbrella steadily in his right hand as he smoked a cigarette. It was pouring heavy sheets of icy cold rain. He held his cigarette inbetween his two front teeth delicately. A distance across the sea, he could see other ships. It was a comforting sight to see signs of life. He knew they were not far off the coast of America. He wished it would appear. He wish he could get off the ship. He was tired of this entire ordeal. He wanted nothing more than to find normalcy again.

Cal glanced around the deck, shifting his cigarette back and forth between his teeth. Not another soul was to be found near him. The weather simply didn't allow for anybody to enjoy what they had paid for, outside in salty fresh air. Cal ached deep inside. He had hoped to turn around and see Rose. This was the only place he could think of to bump into her now.

He knew he had to get serious now. The ship would be docking in hours and he had made absolutely no head-way on convincing Rose of returning to him. Cal felt like he had lost all control over the life he had had before. Rose was everywhere and nowhere at once. Though the ship was small, Rose had evaded him percisely and tirelessly. Cal had yet to run into her at the same place twice. Sometimes she was on the deck, or in the second-class, or the third.

_What will she do if she goes on by herself? _Cal thought, lowering his cigarette now. A gust of wind whistled by, causing his skin to become layered in mist and pucker in goosebumps, _She has no where to go. She has no skills. No one to contact. Rose cannot be thinking rationally. _Cal took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, watching the sea discontently, _She's not acting in her best interest. She is ill. The hypothermia surely must be intercepting her typical actions. Maybe she doesn't want to come back to all of this... but does she really have a choice? She must be crazy indeed if she thinks I'm going to let her walk off this boat and straight into more disaster. Rose needs me._

Cal sighed and threw his cigarette over the railing. His shoes squished through the water standing on the deck as he made it towards the door. Cal ducked into the stairwell, closing his umbrella and giving it a shake. He squeaked down the stairs and into the first-class dining hall. He walked through briskly, not even allowing his eyes to meet anyone else's. He did not want to be caught in conversation, he didn't want to ask questions and listen to answers he couldn't care about. He didn't want to answer questions, either.

Cal directly walked towards the second-class stairwell and paused when he saw Ruth unlocking the gate before him. He knitted his eyebrows together as he came down behind her while she roughly pulled it along the tracks. Cal lifted his arm and helped give a mighty push to open it.

"Thank you," Ruth huffed, "This blasted thing needs attention," Ruth turned around now and froze, "Mr. Hockley," She said lamely.

"Hello, Ruth," Cal greeted cooly, "Heading down to second-class?"

"I'm looking for Rose," Ruth replied, "I know she's somewhere down here. Have you seen her?"

Cal took these moments to observe Ruth. She looked completely deprived of any sleep. Her face had no make up, her hair had no chemicals to hold it firmly in place. Ruth's dress was absolutely dishevelled. No amount of washing, drying, and ironing would save the velvety fabric. Her eyes looked sunken and without her make up, nothing about her face popped. Cal had never seen Ruth so barren looking. It was almost grand, in his opinion. Finally, a sign of mortality. For as long as Cal had been promised her as a mother-in-law he had suffered through her vainness, her selfishness, and her dilluted idea of being untouchable. Now, standing before him, was a wiry woman hanging by a thread, lost of everything and everyone.

"No, I haven't seen her," Cal said.

"Molly Brown claimed she saw Rose. I'm beginning to think this is one big joke to her," Ruth sneered, "She said Rose had been on the deck one morning but now I'm convinced Molly is absolutely out of her mind. I've searched this ship top to bottom, it's not even spectacularly huge! I've asked over a hundred people of her description and absolutely no one has seen her!"

Cal lowered his head for a moment.

"Mr. Hockley, you must help me search, please," Ruth said, gripping his arm now, "I think you can agree that it is both in our interests to find Rose."

"Oh? And what do you mean by that?" Cal smiled, near mocking.

"Dammit, Cal," Ruth was beginning to lose her cool, "Don't make me be unlady-like."

"I wish I could help, but I'm feeling under the weather," Cal continued past her.

"Where on earth are you going?" Ruth asked, now following Cal down the hallway.

"My room is in the second-class."

"What did the Atlantic Ocean do to you?!" Ruth cried, planting in place. Her voice seemed so strained and upset, it nearly shocked Cal. He stopped, too, and turned towards her with arched eyebrows. Ruth's face was pinched, "The _Titanic _has rear something ugly onto everyone! I really think everyone I know has lost their mind! My daughter is a runaway steerage girl, Molly is absolutely upside-down, and now _you _are a second-class passenger!"

"Ruth, everyone is simply trying to make do with what they have until we can get back to America and catch our grips," Cal said, trying to be reasonable.

"I'm going to find Rose," Ruth replied, her temper rising unsteadily, "I'm sure you'll be happy I did, Mr. Hockley."

Ruth marched past him stiffly, trying her best to hold her nose in the air defiantly. Cal had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes.

...

Rose sat out on the third-class deck by herself. The rain was coming down so hard, not even the cover on the deck was able to protect anyone from the water pelting the earth. Rose didn't care, however. She was bundled up in blankets, curled up in a chair. Her hair was wet and pressed flat to her head. She stared out to sea achingly. She saw a larger ocean liner on the distance. Rose almost wanted to jump overboard and swim to it. She wanted to be on any ship other than this one. Rose lowered her chin to her knee and again confronted her brain.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pleaded for her mind to release something happy. Something of Jack, "Please, please," She whispered to herself, though her voice was carried away in the storm. Warm tears stung Rose's eyes and slowly skiied down her cheeks, "Jack, please... I just want to see you once more..."

That's when she saw a quiet room. She was closing the door behind her. Rose could see she had white gloves covering her slender fingers. She hated those particular gloves. The lacy cuff always caused quite an itch around her wrists. But she was turning now, in her memory, her cerulean blue dress skimming the hardwood floor. When she turned, there was Jack, standing in a stolen black coat. He was sweaty, as if he had been exerting himself out all day. His blond hair was molded backwards from his forehead. He reached out and touched her. Rose felt a warm feeling beneath her skin to his touch. Rose fell against the wall and turned her head away. _Look at him, you fool! _Rose screamed as the memory played itself out to her.

_I love Cal, Jack._

Rose's eyes snapped open, ending the memory in an instant. Her body grew cold to the touch and she curled into an even tighter ball. Her skin had paled more as she recalled that moment that was only days before. _I'm an idiot, _Rose thought as thunder rolled through the sky, _Is this why I'm suffering now?! I'm being punished, aren't I? I get it now... _Rose pulled herself from her chair and left her blankets behind as she walked to the railing. Water was pooling there, but she didn't care. She allowed her stocking feet to wade through it, despite it being chilling. She gripped the railing so tight her knuckles turned white.

_All my life I've been nothing more than a timid little girl. So helpless. Expected to be taken care of. I've been nothing but passive of my entire life. And I've proved that to myself even more. It's like I want myself to be miserable. Jack was right there in front of me, offering me the entire world, and I brushed him off as nothing. I didn't seize the moment until it was too late. Now I'm left craving for what more I could have experienced. If I had just gone with my gut, not been so scared, there's so much more we could have done together. And now... I have to spend the rest of my life wondering about all the what if's..._

Rose bit down her lip and tasted copper again. Anxiety was rumbling beneath her skin. She looked down over the railing at the choppy sea. She took a deep breath and averted her eyes towards the crying sky. She felt the same way. Her stomach was grumbling, but she did not feel hungry. Rose looked to the sea again and then over her shoulders. There was that feeling again. The same one that had struck her aboard the _Titanic. _The one that drove her mad. The feeling that was absolutely overwhelming. Rose felt like her mind was in fast forward, but her body was in slow motion. She couldn't find a way to calm herself down. Rose watched the sea and raised her sopping wet stocking foot to the railing. She then climbed completely onto the railing. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she gripped a support beam for the roof. Rose slowly leaned over the railing even more, until she felt like she was suspended over it with no solid ground below her.

_I could just let go, _Rose thought to herself. Her vision was full of the violent choppy sea below. She did not blink despite the rain soaking her through to her bone. Her hand loosened just slightly and she felt her blood throbbing in her ears. _I would just sink, like Jack said. I could sink to the bottom of the ocean just to be with him... _She closed her eyes longingly.

"Rose!" She staggered off the railing, splashing into the puddle. She turned around hurriedly and froze in her tracks. Standing in the doorway was her mother. Ruth's whole body was shaking as she looked over her wet and heartbroken daughter, "Oh my God, my baby!" Ruth surged forward, wrapping her arms around the frigid girl, "I've found you!"

Rose only stared into the lounge room. She watched everyone laying on the floors and sitting at tables with bread and soup. She made no move to wrap her arms around her mother. Ruth was clutching her hair, her hand pressed tenderly to her neck. Ruth was choked with sobs, her body wracking with shakes as she held her long lost daughter close. Rose slowly closed her eyes, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. A feeling she was familiar with, and one she had a hunch she would know for the rest of her life.

...

Rose exited the unfamiliar bathroom into the unfamiliar sitting room. She saw Tillie, Ruth, and Molly sitting together in the middle of the room with a cluster of plush looking seats. Rose was wearing a donated green dress now that suited her rather well. She felt better that she had taken a bath, but still, her defeat was so unsettling inside. Here she was, back in her jail cell. Her wings were clipped. Her chance was gone. _Passive, yet again. _

"Sit down, honey!" Molly said upon noticing her standing forlornly towards the hallway.

Ruth looked over shoulder sharply and beckoned Rose to join them. They had tea and cucumber finger sandwiches cluttered atop the mahagony coffee table. Rose held in her internal sigh and crossed to join the women. She seated herself slowly, her first-class manner lessons returning to her bit by bit. She fluffed her skirt and set her hands neatly in her lap.

_I hate that I'm here. I don't belong here. _Rose looked stiffly between each woman who seemed to be observing her every movement. When her eyes lay on her mother, she felt absolutely dreadful. Was her mother happy to see her? Or was she meerly breathing a sigh of relief at the idea that her future was secure yet again? Rose looked to the carpet, _What do I do, Jack? _

Tillie thrusted a cup of tea into Rose's vision. She sat up straight now and accepted it. Her hands were shaky, however, and her cup clattered back and forth on her saucer until she was able to lower it into her lap and control herself.

"Now," Tillie said, reaching for a finger sandwich, "Where are all you fine ladies off to you once the ship docks? I think I'll find a nice coffee shop before we depart back to sea for Austria."

"I'd like a nice night's sleep before I even think of the long journey home," Molly replied from behind her tea cup, "I want all the room service I can imagine. Massages, chocolate, a radio, the works."

"I think Rose and I will rest awhile, too," Ruth agreed, "We do have the wedding to think about, though," Ruth cast a glance towards her daughter, who seemed rather disconnected from the chat.

"Ruth, I'm just so happy to find your daughter alive and well," Tillie grinned.

Rose looked to the British woman slowly. _They speak like I'm not here._

"My relief is far too abundant to convey in words," Ruth replied. She reached over and pressed her slender fingers to Rose's arm. Rose turned her eyes on her mother. The woman beside her seemed so foreign. Could Rose really return to all of this?

"Rose, darling, do you care to share where you've been?" Molly asked.

Rose shifted her eyes to Molly now and she felt a flame ignite in her belly. She had been fond of Molly aboard the _Titanic_. But now, she was only angry with her. Molly had betrayed her in ways the woman would never realize. In the next moment, Rose's jumbled thoughts directed towards Cal. He hadn't betrayed her. She lowered her eyes to the carpet again and chose to retreat back into her mind, away from what she was being forced to sit through.

"She hasn't spoken since I've found her," Ruth finally said, "I believe her voice has been chased away for the time being. Poor girl, probably very traumatized by what happened."

Rose kept her eyes glued downwards, internally screaming. _What now, Jack?_


	7. Destiny

Chapter Seven

_April 18th, 1912_  
_Atlantic Ocean_

Cal had no bags to pack. He lounged in a chair in the middle of his room, smoking a cigarette lazily. He occasionally would glance to Jack, but so far, nothing had changed. Cal had actually been feeding Jack and yet, the man still did not awake. Cal lifted his cigarette from his mouth and carelessly tapped the ash onto the carpet, which he considered tacky. He looked to the window on his left. He knew it was evening time, but still, the rain did not relent. He was eager to see land again.

_Well, Dawson... looks like I'll be leaving you here, _He thought with a smirk on his face, _Maybe I will win afterall. You'll be left to a hospital bed, forgotten with no visitors, while I go on to live my life in peace. I will say, I admire your courage... your strength... to go against a man such as myself. But, as you know, money and skill trumps all, and you lack in both categories._

Cal stood and crossed to Jack's bed while taking another long drag of his cigarette. Jack was sleeping on his side, his face sunken into the goose down pillow. His skin was ghostly pale. His eyes and lips were faintly purple. His face was perplexed, as if even in sleep he still felt pain.

_He's young, he'll probably pull past this, _Cal thought as he stuck his cigarette back in his mouth, _He can't be anymore than his mid-twenties. I was that handsome ten years ago, _He shook his head back and forth, _Rose cannot simply be anamored by his boyish looks. She is much more intelligent than that. What was it deep inside him that made her so mad about him? What did Rose value and seek? She had never disclosed as much as a hint during our engagement. How could I know how to light her fire if she never told me how? Why did this fool get a chance?_

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. Cal's eyes lingered on Jack for a moment more before he crossed to answered it. He peaked his head out and nearly howled in surprise to see Ruth standing there. She was alone, thankfully. She was wearing different clothes now and looked to be rather rejuvenated.

"Mr. Hockley, may we speak?" Ruth asked. Her royally adopted tone had returned.

"Certainly," Cal began to squeeze out the door but Ruth cleared her throat.

"In the privacy of your room?"

"Oh, I..." Cal glanced over his shoulders towards the slumbering steerage man, "I have roommates," He said blandly.

"I won't be long," Ruth said. She brushed past Cal, nearly forcefully. He was impressed a woman of her size could demand such a presence. She entered the room and gazed around with her never-ending judging eyes. She spotted the man sleeping in bed and slowly she froze, her eyes locked on him. Ruth's mouth opened slightly and her eyes grew wide as saucers. Cal watched her internally struggle to comprehend who was lying in the bed. Ruth looked to Cal, then back to Jack, before she finally managed to find her voice, "What in the world is going on? Why is _he_ here?"

"It's... a long story," Cal released an exasperated sigh as he closed the door now. Ruth crossed to the bed and leaned over to examine Jack. She looked to be double checking that it really was him. She shook her head and looked to Cal with an expression that demanded an explanation. Cal lit another cigarette at the coffee table.

"What is he doing here?" Ruth decided to start the interrogation herself.

"Look, it's not what it seems," Cal said, wishing the cigarette would take the edge off, "I found him in the infirmary in the third-class while trying to find Rose. I was worried... I don't know... that Rose would see him and it would make it all the more harder bringing her back to me. So I brought him here, out of her sight."

"What do you plan on doing with him?" Ruth asked, returning to staring at the poor man.

"Well," Cal hunched his shoulders and knit his eyebrows together, "I was thinking he would wake up and I could convince him Rose was dead. I wanted to throw him off the trail, make him forget about this entire ordeal and move on with himself. But now," Cal took a drag of his cigarette, "it looks like I'll be leaving him here to be dragged away to some hospital, never to be seen again."

"Mr. Hockley," Ruth looked to him, nearly astonished, "I must say... that was great thinking on your part. In fact, I came to inform you, I've found Rose and she has returned to me."

"That's great news," Cal joined Ruth at Jack's bedside and together the two looked down onto him, "We'll be docking soon and we can depart immediately. Rose will know nothing of this."

"Good," Ruth nodded. She adjusted her gloves on her hands and crossed for the door. She paused with her hand gripping the brass knob and looked to Cal, "We're having our final dinner aboard the ship at six. Will you be there?"

"Yes, of course," Cal told her. Ruth left, content with their chat. Cal put his cigarette between his lips and grinned, _Rose thought she could hide, but how could she on a ship this mediocre? It's all coming together. I get brownie points for not betraying her and Dawson will disappear from our lives. That's what you get, Dawson. Our paths were never meant to cross. _He grinned as smoke trailed from his nostrils, _Checkmate._

...

Cal entered the first-class dining hall to see Ruth and Rose sitting at a table together with a vacant chair waiting for him. He nodded politely to other passengers. He was beginning to feel much better. Cal crossed the room and grinned, gripping the back of his chair, "Good evening, ladies," He greeted before he seated himself. There was a basket of dinner rolls on the table. Ruth had cut one open and had smeared butter and honey on it conservatively. Rose was simply sitting there with a glass of water. She looked much better than how Cal had seen her a day ago.

Rose's curls were fresh and her hair was combed, draped over her shoulders like fine thread. Her dress was stunning and ironed. Though she was still paler than normal, she looked absolutely magnificent in Cal's eyes, _How could she think she was destined to be grimey and dressed in rags? _Cal thought as he helped himself to a roll, _She's nothing short of a princess. How could she not like being the most beautiful woman in the room?_

"You know, I've heard rumors that survivors of the _Titanic _will be given rooms in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel once we dock," Ruth grinned as she took a delicate bite of her roll, "I think it will be a good idea for us to spend a day or so in New York to rest before heading on to Philidelphia. Even with our stay, we should return in plenty of time for the wedding."

"I think that sounds nice," Cal replied, not even looking up from buttering his roll.

"Rose, I think we can squeeze one more dress fitting in before the wedding, as well," Ruth continued, "I just want to be sure it looks perfect. We can't guarantee you're the same size as you were before we departed for Europe."

Rose only looked at her mother, saying nothing. She reached for her water and drank it slowly. Anything to distract herself. Anything to prevent words from tumbling out of her lips. Rose had nothing pleasant to say and knew it would only be best to keep them to herself so as to not make the dinner any more tense than it was. Rose thought of the wedding dress she had chosen last year before departing on her vacation. She had been presented many options but settled on a form fitting dress that the seamstress claimed was the newest hottest fashion, especially in France.

It was a long ivory gown with lace covering the silky slip that bathed her body. It had lacy sleeves that made her skin beneath look flawless and soft. The lace climbed up her chest, stopping just at her pronounced collarbone. When Rose had worn it and presented it to her mother, the entire room was in awe. Rose had looked like royalty in that gown. She had also felt special wearing that dress, but she knew she was wearing it for all the wrong reasons and especially for all the wrong people.

"I want to have a final hair appointment, as well," Ruth said, drawing Rose from her thoughts, "Everything has to be perfect. Everyone must be on the same page that day. I will accept nothing less of perfection," Their meals were placed before them. Steaks, mashed potatoes, and asaparagus boiled in peanut oil. Ruth laid her linen napkin in her lap and arranged her cutlery, "We need to get your nails done as well. I'm sure they're as broken and chipped as mine are," Ruth scrunched her nose at the thought of her unmanicured nails.

Rose decided to eat to busy herself. She cut into her juicy steak and forced the food into her mouth. She hadn't been very hungry recently, but she knew her body needed strength. Rose was still convinced maybe she could sneak away. She couldn't allow for any of this to happen. Rose had to find Lena and explain what had happened. The German woman would surely offer solace. Rose looked to her mother and then Cal, who were both engrossed in their meals.

_Why did this happen, Jack? _She asked herself as she chewed on the rather unappetizing asaparagus, _Why did they have to find me? Why couldn't they just be content with the idea that I was dead? I certainly feel like that on the inside. You were right, Jack... They have me trapped. And I am going to die in their cage. I'll never get to know my true happiness. Why did you do this to me, Jack? Why did you show me the world? Why did you convince me to open my wings and sing? You've showed this little bird what she was capable of and it was all taken away. I'd give anything to see you smile again. I'd trade everything just to see the world reflected in your eyes just one more time..._

"We need to find a jeweler while we are here, too," Ruth spoke up again. Rose slowly raised her eyes to her mother, "Your engagement photos will be done before the wedding takes place. We have to replace your ring for that."

Rose looked to her barren ring finger. How desperately she wanted to take her steak knife and simply cut the finger off, _He can't marry me if he has no where to put the ring. I can't do this. I really can't, Jack. How could they expect me to parade down that aisle? In front of all those people I don't even know. There will not be one kind soul looking back at me. Jack, please help me. I can't wear his ring or that dress. I can't take his name or bear his children. I just can't. _Rose's fingers curled around her cutlery at the agonizing thought of the approaching week. She took a deep breath to qualm the rising panic in her chest. She looked at Cal, whose eyes were already on her, _I can't do this._

...

Rose went out to the deck. The rain was pounding down onto the ship, but it was packed despite that. Rose's hair instantly flattened to her again as her new shoes waded through the puddles forming on the boards. She ran her hands along the freezing railing and looked up into the sky, closing her eyes. When she opened her eyes, the Statue of Liberty was staring back at her just across the bay. Rose's eyes lingered on the statue. A symbol of peace, integrity, security... but all Rose thought of were those heavy chains around her wrists and ankles. America was not her safeland. It was anything but that. Rose watched as the ship steamed past the large freedom statue. She turned her attention now towards the growing coastline. New York City. There it was. Rose slowly pulled her hair back from her face to watch the city approached.

She could see cars driving past, people bustling on the streets. She could hear the typical signs of life. Rose couldn't decide if it comforted her or brought her tremendous fear. Rose lowered her head and let out a huff. _You should be here, Jack. You should be staring at the Statue of Liberty, watching the city grow near. You should be telling me about all the plans you had made for us. All the cities we were going to visit... You should be here. _Rose looked around at the people on the deck eagerly awaiting to get off the ship once and for all, _Why were these people's lives spared and not yours? What made even me more important than you? What was the reason for your death? So unjustified, so uncalled for... You were so special. You had so much to offer the world, Jack. It's just not fair._

"Excuse me, Miss," A crew man approached her with an umbrella and a clipboard, "We're compiling a survivors list. Would you mind sharing your name, please?"

Rose looked out to the sea with a bleeding heart. Nothing about the future excited her. She bit down her lip and looked back to the awaiting crew man, "Dawson," She said softly, "Rose Dawson."

"Thank you," He said, before moving on to the next group of passengers.

_I may be destined to be Rose Hockley... but I'll always be your honorary Dawson, Jack..._


	8. Unidentified Man

Chapter Eight

_April 18th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Cal threw his cigarette out the window of his room. New York was right there. Cal cocked his head to get a better view of the blissful city. He had been craving land for days. Cal was sure he was becoming hysterical aboard the ship. Behind him, the chatter of people, thunking of shoes, and clattering of trunks and luggage could be heard. Over seven-hundred passengers were getting off the ship. Cal was sure that passengers of the _Carpathia _were breathing sighs of relief.

_Well, Dawson... _Cal approached Jack's beside and sheepishly dug his hands into his pockets as he gazed down on the unwell man, _Looks like this is it. Our little slumber party is over. You're back in America, now. You're welcome, by the way. I'll have the decency to alert a nurse you're here, but that's all I will do for you, Dawson. This is the end of the ride for you. You are to never appear again. If you know what's best for you, you'll never breath her name again, you'll never look her up, and you sure as hell will not find a way to get into her bedroom. To you, Rose is dead. And to me, you are, too. You've got enough common sense to not go after a powerful man's woman near his estate. I'll hire thugs and guard dogs to rip you to pieces if you think of even trying to catch a look of Rose. She is mine, Dawson. She always has been and she always will be. She is Hockley material. For her to be a Dawson is an insult. How could you think so lowly of a woman like that? You're no knight in shining armor. You are nothing more than a peasant throwing pebbles at a king._

Cal looked to Jack for a moment more before he turned and collected his silver cigarette case off the coffee table. He tucked it inside his coat and glanced around the room fleetingly before heading out the door to the packed hallway. Cal craned his neck to see over the crowds and spotted a nurse talking with a woman at her door. He waited for them to part before he called after her. The nurse came to him and they stood beside his door. The crowd protestfully squeezed past the two.

"Excuse me," Cal said, "I had taken a sick passenger from the _Titanic _into my room for some comfort during the trip, however, he's in a coma and has not awaken. I haven't the faintest clue as to who he is. Can you arrange for him to be transported to the hospital?"

"Oh, sure," The nurse said with an Irish accent. She fished into her apron and pulled a small pad and pencil out, "Room 209?"

"Yes, that's correct," Cal said, glancing towards the sea of faces flowing past him.

"I'll be sure to update the doctors," The nurse replied as she scribbled the note down, "Grown man?"

"Yes."

"Approximate age?"

"Mid-twenties, I'd say," Cal shrugged, really not having a clue.

"Hypothermic coma?" She cocked an eyebrow up.

"Probably, yes."

"And you said you don't know his name?"

"No, not at all. He has no identification," Cal crossed his arms over his chest. Lying through his teeth was so easy, "I suspect he has no family aboard the ship either."

"Oh, too bad," She clucked, "We'll get him to the hospital."

Cal was content and decided to head towards the deck to meet up with Ruth and Rose. The nurse gathered two other nurses and together they entered Room 209 with a bed on wheels to take him out on. All three women gathered around the bed to assess him.

"What's his name?" A nurse with onyx black hair asked, leaning over him.

"No one knows," The Irish one replied with a shrug. She consulted with her notebook a moment, "We'll have to call him Unidentified Male Number Three. We have two other ones already reported."

"It's too bad, he's rather handsome," The tan nurse said, brushing his hair from his face.

"He's a looker," The onxy haired nurse giggled, "Where are we taking him?"

"To the holding bay of the deck," The Irish nurse said, drawing the sheets back and untangling Jack's legs, "The covered area behind the bridge. They'll be taken off separately from the survivors."

...

Rose stood beside her mother beneath an umbrella as the ship groaned into dock. Rose's eyes grew wide as she saw the awaiting crowd on the piers. The pops of cameras were going off. The crowd was shouting, some in jubilation, others in frightful anxiety. Rose spotted newspaper boys shouting out the headlines, she saw them waving newspapers. The awaiting crowd couldn't even fit on the pier. The crowd went on towards the sidewalk, even the street was cluttered with people.

"Good lord," Ruth said, "We're parading straight into the tabloids."

Cal appeared on the side of Rose now, startling her. She stumbled into her mother, who steadied her.

"Rose, stick close to Cal and I. The crowd may be rambunctious."

"I have you, sweetpea," Cal linked arms with Rose. Rose felt her heart beating in her ears, her entire body warming up. She held her breath so her body wouldn't shake. Too much had happened too soon. Rose was sure her head was going to bust. She felt so uncapable of everything. She looked around the deck desperately for Lena. She couldn't leave without some parting words. But Lena was know where to be found in the gut-to-back crowd that eagerly awaited getting back onto land.

"They don't even allow us to go first?" Ruth sneered, "They're going to let us all trot off at once like a pack of buffalo?"

"Shut up," Rose said, looking straight at her mother. Cal watched with raised eyebrows.

"The first words you speak to me and it's that?" Ruth scoffed, shaking her head, "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you're simply ill and irritated. Now hush."

And just like that, pleaded to speak and now asked to be quiet. Rose stared straight ahead, watching the crewmen line up the boards to allow the passengers off. The crowd was beginning to surge with intense eagerness. The crewmen had to ask them to calm down. Rose bit down on her lip again. If her arm was not so securely enclosed in Cal's, she would have made a mad dash through the crowd. She was small. She knew she could get away in a crowd this thick.

Rose glanced to the side of Cal's face. He noticed and looked back at her. She was amazed to see him so human-looking. His eyes were dark from a lack of a good night's sleep, his hair was dishevelled, untreated, uncombed. He looked... like a normal person. One who made mistakes, one who was proven to be only mortal.

"Can you please let go of my arm?" She asked, softly, "I'm very sore."

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetpea," He immediately did as she asked. Rose was stunned in place. In an alternate universe, Rose would have already been on her hands and knees, weaving between legs. She would have been sliding between people, apologizing profusely. She would have been hiding in a dark room until the ship left the port with her and without Ruth and Cal. But here she was, marvelling at the moment. Cal had did what she asked without protest. And he had not told Ruth she was alive. Rose slowly raised her head to meet Cal's eyes again. She tried to shield the look of surprise from her face. He grinned, slightly, but it faltered and he looked forward at the crowd now emptying from the ship, "We need to talk, Rose," He said, still without looking at her. But after a moment, he dared himself to gaze into her eyes that were the color of emeralds, "We really need to talk."

...

That night, Rose lay in a bed that felt like a cloud. She was given her own room. Well, their hotel room had three bedrooms in it, each with their own porcelain fantasy bathroom. Between their rooms was the entry room that was a luxurious tea and sitting room. Ruth had felt back at home instantly upon seeing their hotel room. She immediately set to having a maid bring her fresh tea and lemon wedges. She took a luxurious bubble bath, too. Cal pampered himself a bit by having a cigar and reading the New York paper. He took the time to eat some finger sandwiches that had greeted them with shining hospitality upon opening the door. He took a bath and sunk into a recliner with another cigar and a magazine, wearing the hotel's complimentary white fluffy robes.

Rose had taken a bath, but she immediately went to bed after that. She felt desperately tired, but after minutes of laying there, it became hours, and soon nighttime had grown old. Rose was frustrated as she lay in bed that late night. She stared at the high vaulted ceilings that were painted in ivy leaves of gold. The moon shine brilliantly through the tall window in her room.

_Oh, Jack... Am I never going to sleep well again? Are you going to haunt my thoughts every day for the rest of my life? Why can't I touch you? Why can't you talk back to me? I think I'm going crazy. I talk to you and expect a response. Please, tell me, what can I do? _She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head to the side as hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She opened her eyes, her chest rising unsteadily. Directly out the window, the full moon was shining milky light on to her.

_I could leave right now. While everyone is asleep. I'll steal some food, some water... I'll take some clothes, maybe something I can sell, _Rose sat up and flicked her gas lamp on. It softly illuminated the room. Rose's eyes darted about as she looked at what she had to work with, _I can get a ticket to somewhere else. I could go to Albany in hopes of finding Lena. If I left... _Rose paused and looked to the quilt covering her legs, _I could go anywhere I wanted to._

Rose got out of bed and grabbed a duffel bag she found in the wardrobe. She grabbed three dresses that had been donated for survivors. She also grabbed an extra pair of shoes. She took a small hand mirror that had jewels encrusted in the back. She grabbed two bottles of unopened perfume in glass jars that were shaped to look like diamonds. She stole the gold alarm clock, tucking it deep into the duffel bag. Rose crossed to the vanity chair and grabbed the woolen coat Cal had given her on the _Titanic. _She dropped it, however, and when she did, she heard an odd noise.

Rose knelt and ruffled the jacket around, reaching her hand into the pocket. She felt something cool to the touch. Rose pulled the contents out and her heart pounded incredibly loud in her chest. In her palm, looking back at her, was the Heart of the Ocean. Cal had carelessly left it in his coat pocket. And now, he had completely forgotten about it. Rose felt a grin creeping across her face as she stared at the blue gem. She immediately stuffed it into the duffel bag. She pulled her stockings on and then slipped into her shoes, tossing a short sleeved red dress on and Cal's coat. She then grabbed a paperboy hat she found on a shelf in the wardrobe and tucked her hair up into it. She slung the bag over her shoulder and slowly pushed her door open, peaking her head out.

Moonlight bathed the sitting room. There were long shadows running up the walls and across the floor. Rose cocked her head around the room, staring deep into the shadows as to not miss anyone. It seemed desserted. She spotted the grandfather clock across the room. It was three in the morning. Rose slowly began across the room, being sure to step silently. She held her bag against her hip. One step at a time she grew nearer to the door.

"Rose, is that you?" She froze in her tracks and looked towards the voice. Cal was sitting on the other side of the large china cabinet. Rose had been unable to see him from her bedroom door. The window Cal was sat beside was open and Rose could see ribbons of smoke cascading in the moonlight. She turned towards Cal now, her heart beating so fast she was sure it was going to leap out of her chest, "Can't sleep?" He looked at her and furrowed his brow, "I see... you were leaving."

Rose furrowed her brow together as Cal took another drag of his cigarette calmly. She half-expected him to fly into a rage, berate her, shove her, anything. But instead, he sat on the couch, his legs propped up, still sunken into his fuzzy robe.

"What train are you taking?" He asked, "Can you sit and chat before you go?"

Rose was trembling. She set the duffel bag down and crossed to join him by the window. She felt she was under some spell. His soft voice beckoned her. Rose seated herself in a recliner across the coffee table from Cal. She helped herself to a cigarette.

"Look at you," Cal cracked a smirk, "Hair tucked up, jacket on. You really thought it out, didn't you? You know you're easily noticed." Rose watched him carefully in the moonlight as he dangled his cigarette between his lips and gazed out at the City That Never Slept. He seemed so small, in that moment. Meaningless to the world. Rose had only seen him as a giant, waiting to crush and dominate the world. Now, he was but a speck of dust on the world's surface. His eyes slowly shifted over to her, "I know what you're thinking," He said in his low husky voice, "You're probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me," He laughed a little, "Well... I am, too. Something feels different, Rose."

"Maybe you realized you weren't invincible," Rose replied steadily, lowering her cigarette.

"That could be it," Cal nodded, averting his eyes upward for a moment.

"Why didn't you do it?" Rose asked suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Why didn't you tell my mother I was alive?"

"Rose..." Cal sighed and leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees, "I realize now... just how precious life is. What I witnessed on the _Titanic _has awakened a feeling in me I did not know existed. Well, I certainly didn't think I could feel it. It's a mix of foolishness... and shame. I've come to realize just how dear you are to me, Rose. I care for you deeply. When I saw you for the first time after everything, you have no idea how happy I was to see you alive. I ached for you horribly. I wanted to respect your wishes in hope that maybe... you'd want to come back to me."

Rose looked at the coffee table now, busying her eyes with the details of each flower in the wicker basket. They looked to be freshly cut from the day before, most likely bought from the farmer's market that morning. Rose took a drag of her cigarette and lifted her eyes back to Cal.

"Do you want to be with me?" Cal asked slowly.

"I don't know what I want, Cal."

"Maybe... we can figure out together," Cal said. Rose looked to him in the moonlight.

"Maybe so."


	9. The Best Thing

Chapter Nine

_April 19th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose slept in nearly until noon. She took her time bathing and chose to wear the pale ivory dress she had hurriedly tucked into her duffel bag the night before. The bag remained pack, sticking out half-way from beneath her bed. As Rose pulled the dress out, she paused to look over the various things she had stowed away last night. She slowly turned the mirror in her hands until her reflection was looking back at her. Rose was not pleased with the face staring at her. She stuffed the mirror deep into the bag, her fingers brushing over the cold Heart of the Ocean.

When she entered the sitting room, Cal had a tray of room service parked beside the couch. He was smoking a cigarette, which seemed to be his new favorite thing to do. He was listening to the radio buzz with world news and stock market numbers while he turned the pages in many different magazines that were splayed out across the coffee table.

"Good morn-" Cal paused for a moment, "Good afternoon, Rose."

"Hello," Rose greeted cooly, stopping just outside of her bedroom door, "Where is my mother?"

"Well, she went to breakfast with some friends of her's this morning and just left to catch lunch with them, too," Cal said, looking back down at his magazine, "Were you hungry? Help yourself to anything on the cart."

Rose's stocking feet padded softly across the carpet as she crossed to inspect what Cal had delivered. She was hungry and finally felt motivated enough to take care of herself. She fidgeted with her nail as she gazed over the food. She decided to take the plate that had a variety of raw vegetables. Something about the carrots and cherry tomatoes seemed refreshing. Rose seated herself on the couch against the wall across the sitting room from Cal. She crunched down on a carrot and looked out the window. Her ears tuned to the radio.

"... The _Carpathia _arrived at the port of New York City late last night with over seven-hundred survivors from the _Titanic _aboard. The crew of the _Carpathia _are being hailed as heroes. The liner received distressing telegrams from the _Titanic _in the late evening of April 14th. The _Titanic _was on her maiden-voyage across the Atlantic Ocean under the comforting promise that it was an unsinkable ship. The _Titanic _unfortunately struck an ice berg and sank within six hours of the collision. The _Carpathia _braved the Atlantic Ocean's mindfield of ice bergs to reach the _Titanic _nearly two hours after it's final departure into the sea. Among those lost are the world's richest man, John Jacob Astor IV, the _Titanic's _designer, Thomas Andrews, and White Star Captain, Edward Smith. The _Titanic _is the worst maritime accident the world has seen, especially due to the wealthy passengers and celebrities who were aboard. Survivors have been given a complimentary stay at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel as they come to terms with what's happened. Speculation about the manufacturing of the ship has come into question with-"

Cal abruptly turned the radio off and sat back with a resigning sigh. Rose looked towards him.

"Can you really believe it?" Cal asked, looking up at the vaulted ceiling.

"What?" Rose arched her eyebrows.

"They said God himself couldn't sink that ship. I mean, even I did," Cal laughed mockingly at the thought, "Can you believe God really sank the _Titanic_? We tempted fate and it bit us in the ass."

"God had nothing to do with it," Rose looked back out the window and bit down on a stick of celery, "It was all the work of vain rich men."

"I detect resentfulness..."

"Maybe I am," Rose replied, nearly irritated, "I don't want to think about that ship ever again. It hurt me in ways you could never imagine."

Cal opened his mouth to speak, but paused a moment before his voice could escape. Cal had been hurt, too. By Rose. And Cal had hurt Rose. He stood and crossed the room, offering his silver cigarette case out to her. Rose's eyes lingered on it before she finally accepted one and used his lighter to light it. Cal seated himself beside her, letting out another rough sigh. He still felt sore. Hesitently, he brought his hand forward and gently rest it on Rose's knee. He felt her tense at the touch.

"I know you're hurt and bleeding on the inside..." Cal said, looking at his hand on her knee. It felt good to simply touch her. He hated the way her muscles locked up. He wanted nothing more than for Rose to sink into him and rest her head on his chest, "I know you feel like you lost something great... and maybe you did," Cal met her eyes now. Rose looked so shocked by his actions. That hurt him, too, "I know you think nothing of the future, it scares you or maybe bores you. But you know, that's how the future has always made me feel, too. I didn't care to think much into the future. I only thought about what I'd do during the day. But since the accident... the future seems so enticing. I want nothing more than to be away from all of this. The discontent, the hurt, the feeling of sorrow... I want it all behind me. But you, Rose... you're not someone I want to remember from my past. I want you to come with me to the future. I can promise you right now, I'll do anything to make you happy, because I can't stand seeing you this low."

"But with everything that has happened?" Rose asked, almost weakly. Her cigarette was burning, forgotten in her hand, "We got physical, Cal. Bullets were fired. I..." She cast her eyes down, unable to complete her sentence. Jack crossed her mind, fleetingly.

"How about this," Cal took a breath and turned to face Rose, removing his hand from her knee. Rose took that moment to take a drag of her cigarette, "What happened on the _Titanic_ doesn't matter. No harm, no foul. All that matters is you're alive and you're with me. We survived, Rose. We had a brush with death. We'd be fools not to seize our lives now. Before, we were simply going through the motions. We were nearly puppets for our parents. Now that we've survived... don't you think we should try to make it count together?"

Tears sprung to Rose's eyes and she attempted to swallow a growing lump in her throat. She looked out the window, blinking rapidly. _Make it count. Meet me at the clock! _She closed her eyes to rub the tears away. She could see Jack's beautiful hand writing behind her eyelids. What had happened to that slip of paper? Her foolish feeling had returned again. Rose sighed unevenly and opened her eyes at the sound of a honking car down below. She was trembling at Cal's words. She knew he was trying. That's all she ever asked for, but she couldn't help but think it was all too late. Cal was asking things of her he should have months ago. Things Jack was willing to promise immediately. Rose couldn't help but think Cal was only trying to fix his flaws for all the wrong reasons. But when she looked to him, there was something different about his gaze. He looked at her tenderly, lovingly. He looked at her the way Jack did. Could Cal really be in love with her? Did Cal see the light?

"Do you love me?" She whispered.

"More than anything in this world," Cal's voice matched her level. He reached forward, gently brushing her curls back. Rose closed her eyes at his touch, "You're my everything, I promise you. I've changed, Rose."

"But why?" Rose asked, opening her eyes suddenly again, "Why did you change?"

"Because I realized I was about to lose the best thing that ever happened to me."

...

The cloud cover had cleared and that evening, New York City was bathed in oranges, pinks, and blues. It was a magnificent dusk. Rose was sitting on the floor in front of her wall-length window in her bedroom. She watched the people down below go about their days. A man across the street was buying a bouquet of flowers. A couple was walking down the street with their arms linked, laughing in jolly ways during their conversation. Some children sat together on the curb, licking ice cream cones that were dribbling down their hands. Rose wished dearly in that moment to be any other person down on that street. She didn't care if she was poor or only owned one dress. She ached for a passionate and authentic life. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and watched a group of birds squawk and fly into the golden sunset. Rose wished she was a bird so she could take flight and leave all her frustrations behind.

There was a curt rap on her bedroom door. Rose looked over her shoulder as Cal entered with a large black box in his hand, "Rose?" He called, gazing around the room. He finally spotted the top of her vibrant hair nearly hidden behind her bed. Cal rounded towards her and sat down on the bed, "What are you doing, sweetpea?"

"Watching the people," Rose said, returning to looking outside.

"They look like they're enjoying themselves, hm?" Cal asked.

"It's just another normal day for them," Rose replied.

"I thought maybe it'd do us some good for us to get out. Just you and me," Cal told her, "It can be just another normal day for us, too."

Rose continued looking outside for a moment more before saying, "How so?"

"Rose, let's make it count," He said, patting the top of the box to draw her attention back to him. She turned around to look at Cal, "I got you something."

"What is it?"

"Open it and find out," He smiled and held the box out to her. Rose stared at it momentarily. Gifts did not excite her. She looked at Cal's face, however, and could see he seemed rather eager. She accepted the black box and ran her hand over the textured top. When she opened the box, a silky green dress with white threadwork was staring up at her, white tissue paper frilling out from behind it, "I thought I'd take you out to dinner. We could do some sight seeing. When was the last time we were in New York City?"

"I'm not sure," Rose shook her head, the actual memories escaping her. Rose slowly pulled the dress out and felt the cool fabric against her hands. It was a rather dashing dress and Rose thought it to be very cute. She toyed with the lacy sweetheart neckline and ruffled the white waistband. Rose was used to being spoiled with many things. Diamonds, necklaces, charm bracelets, shoes, the works. As she grew out of childhood and into being an adult, the material things slowly waned in importance. Rose didn't care to receive things. In fact, she _hated _when Cal bought her things. But for some odd reason, this time was different. Cal was not trying to appease her. He wasn't trying to spoil her in attempts of making her forget about things he considered frivolous. Cal had actually gone and picked this dress out for her in a thoughtful manner. Rose looked to Cal, tucking a curly tuft of hair behind her ear, "Thank you, Cal," She said softly, "It's lovely."

...

"They say New York is not only the City That Never Sleeps, but also the City of Love," Cal said as he and Rose stood together on a street corner. Night time was descending upon the city. The stars above twinkled. Rose cocked her head back and looked at them. They were so beautiful. Rose wished in that moment she could be far away amongst the stars. As she watched the stars, one gleamed powerfully, catching her attention. Her eyes shifted over to it. It was nearly blinking at her.

_That must be Jack saying hello to me... _She thought, _Hello, Jack._

"Well, we've had dinner, done a little window shopping," Cal cleared his throat when he saw just how distracted Rose was, "What else do you want to do, sweetpea? The night is young."

Rose looked at the street gutter, watching the last of the rain sink into a sewer port beneath the sidewalk. She finally met Cal's eyes, "I'd like to just find a park and... walk," She told him.

"We'll go to the grandest," Cal linked arms with her and checked to see if the road was clear. Together, they began across the street, "We'll go to Central Park. It's not a far walk if you're feeling up to it."

"I feel fine," Rose said, turning her head away.

"Would you tell me if you didn't?" Cal pressed a hand to her arm that was linked with his. He loved the way her skin felt. It felt lovely to the touch. Cal looked to Rose's slender body. The dress he had picked out had done her magnificent justice. Her side bangs were swept back in a plain silver clip, perfectly framing the sides of her face.

"Yes," Rose finally replied as they stepped onto the next curb.

Dinner had been rather silent. Cal had made efforts to make conversation, but Rose's replies were curt and short. She left no lead way for him to exchange meaningful words with her. For the most part, Cal had watched Rose gaze around the room. She seemed to be distracted by everything and everyone. He saw the way her green eyes gleamed when she saw other people. It was almost as if she wished she was anybody else. She obviously did not want to make it count with him, but still Cal persisted, in hopes that Rose's grief would melt away and she would return to her regular self. He was beginning to have a hard time remembering what normal Rose was like.

The couple walked in silence, passing just a few other souls on the streets as the city grew darker. The moon was beginning to sail through the sky. Rose tilted her head up into the milky moonlight examining every detail of it. The blinking star still seemed to be directly over her.

_Jack, are you watching me on this foolish date? Are you wondering why I'm allowing myself to be dragged around by him? Can you see how hard he is trying? _Rose looked straight ahead now at the next approaching crosswalk for a desserted street, _Are you disappointed in me, Jack? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed in myself. I've let you down. I've let myself down._

"Rose," Cal's velvet voice cut through the silence, nearly startling her, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Rose said as they crossed another street. She refused to look at him.

"How did you really meet Jack?"

Rose's heart beat loudly in her ears. She had never heard Cal refer to him by his first name. It sounded so foreign in his mouth. And why would he be asking a ridiculous question like that, anyway? Cal said what happened on the _Titanic _didn't matter.

Central Park was approaching them now. She could tell by the tall rock fencing surrounding it. They strolled in, walking along the curvy path beneath a canopy of tall thick trees.

"You know how," Rose finally replied, "I was trying to look at the propeller..."

"You and I know that's both bullshit," Cal planted his feet and they parted from each other. Rose now willed herself to look at Cal. She was glad the path was not greatly illuminated. Her entire face felt hot and she knew she was flushed, "You have never been interested in things like that in your entire life. You like art... you like plants and sunshine. You like to read. You've never given a single machine a second glance in your entire life. What were you really doing at the back of the ship that night?"

"What does it matter?" Rose turned her back to him and looked across the park. It was completely vacant. She hugged herself as the warm feeling drifted away and a chill set in. She heard the crunch of Cal's shoes on the gravel and then felt his hand on her shoulder.

"There's more to the story, Rose."

"Must you really know?"

"I'd like to, yes."

"But... why?" Rose looked over her shoulder at him. Cal could see the hurt in her eyes reflected in the soft light of a nearby lantern, "You've never cared before."

"The man I was a week ago is not someone I want to be anymore, Rose," Cal told her. He gently turned her back towards him and he gripped both her wrists tenderly, "I've made mistakes I don't want to make ever again. What I saw on the _Titanic _reminded me of how truly short life is. And with so little time, the only thing I want to do now is live for real. Authentic. Truthfully."

Rose stared into his eyes, _Is he telling the truth? Is it really that simple? Like turning on a light switch?_

"What happened that night, Rose?" He prompted again.

A dreadful feeling was creeping across Rose. Her heart was beating too fast. Her body was beginning to quiver. Her train of thought had halted, ceased, and all the cargo had piled up into one jumbled mess. She could hear that night's events echoing through her mind. She heard her strained pants, her choked cries. She could hear the thud of her pumps on the deck. The squeaky gates she threw open carelessly, not even bothering to close. And then, she heard the Atlantic Ocean. She squeezed her eyes shut, surpressing a scream rising in her chest.

"I was... going to kill myself," Rose opened her eyes now, "I was going to jump off the ship."

"And Jack..."

"Stopped me."

The couple stood in silence, the noises of the city completely drowned out.


	10. Little Girl

Chapter Ten

_April 20th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Jack felt his wrists being tugged at. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, feeling a glare of light laying on his face. _I'm so tired... I should go downstairs, out of the sun. Maybe Fabrizio will want to play cards. _Jack could faintly hear the sound of the Atlantic Ocean. His wrists were tugged again, _Who is that touching me? Is Rose trying to wake me up? Did we fall asleep somewhere?_

Jack opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room that was uncomfortably white and sterile. He felt confusion plague him. He looked at his wrists, which were clean. He was wearing a white undershirt and a pair of black slacks. He was lying in a bed of sheets he did not recognize. Jack slowly brought his hand up and felt his face, then his hair. His fingers brushed over his ears. He glanced around the room again before finally realizing someone was sitting beside him. It was Rose.

"Rose," He said, "Where are we?"

"He keeps calling me that," Rose smiled, looking to someone Jack could not see, "He murmers her name in his sleep, too."

"Mental confusion," A deep voice came from thin air. Jack only watched Rose. Her curly red hair. Her porcelain skin. She was wearing the same dress from their wonderful escapade around the _Titanic. _Jack quivered in his bed. He wanted to touch her so dearly, "It's good he's waking up every now and then. He's obviously still very tired. We should take more blood, warm it, and circulate it back into him. Might alleviate some of his confusion."

"Rose," Jack said again. She looked to him, "What's going on?"

"You're in the hospital, dear," She said, uncharacteristically, "Do you remember your name?"

"Of course," Jack replied, "You remember me, right?"

"What's the last thing _you _remember?" Rose came to stand at his bed side. Jack heard the clack of leather sole shoes on the sterile tile, yet no one was there. It made the hair stand on the back of Jack's neck as he looked around, nearly overwhelmed. He looked back to Rose in hopes of calming his heart beat.

"I remember... you and I on the deck. It was so cold, I was worried about you because you didn't have a jacket. The last thing I remember..." Jack furrowed his brow together as he tried desperately to call on his memory, "We were kissing. I remember thinking about what a wonderful evening it was... It seemed so... damn magical," Jack's voice was husky now, "But that's it. We were kissing and then... nothing. Did I... pass out? Are we still on the _Titanic_?"

"No, dear," Rose grinned, "You're not on the _Titanic _anymore. You're at the Central New York Hospital."

"I missed the rest of the cruise?" He asked.

"Honey, the _Titanic _sunk. It's at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean," Rose turned and began digging through a drawer. Jack could hear the clatter of metal and the shifting of paper. Rose pulled a needle out, "Do you remember your name?"

"It's Jack," He said, feeling the onset of mania, "Jack Dawson! You remember me, don't you?"

"Honey, I don't think you realize you're not speaking to who you think you are."

"I know who I'm looking at," Jack was growing angry now. He sat up. Rose pressed a hand to his chest in hopes of getting him to lay back down, but he stiffened to her touch, "You're Rose DeWitt Bukater! I'd recognize you every day! Why are you treating me like a stranger, Rose? Just yesterday, you and I were in love, holding hands, doing wild things!"

"I'm not this Rose you speak of," She replied, "My name is Annette Brown. I'm your nurse," She sat on the edge of Jack's bed, pressing a caring hand to his thigh, "Jack, the _Titanic _sunk and you were submerged in freezing waters for quite some time. You have a severe case of hypothermia, which causes mental confusion and temporary amnesia. Your mind is simply playing tricks on you. I'm here to take care of you. I need to take some of your blood so I can warm it and put it back into you. It will help your body get back to operating temperature so you can be healthy again. That way, you can go find your Rose."

Jack's nostrils were flared, his breathing was heavy. He felt like he had just run a mile, he was so exerted. How could this be? What had happened?! He was so desperately confused. Jack felt so helpless. Rose was sitting right there before him and yet, the woman was trying to tell him she wasn't Rose?! She was identical to the girl he had fallen in love with.

"Then where is the real Rose?!" He asked sharply.

"Let me take your blood. I'll have a nurse bring you a survivors list, Jack."

Jack squirmed away from the needle, "The _Titanic _couldn't sink! How could it?!"

"Jack, be still. All will be explained slowly. You're simply in too much shock."

"I just want Rose," Jack said desperately, "Please, let me speak with Rose."

Rose only smiled at him before grabbing hold of his arm and lining her needle up.

...

That morning, Cal sat in the grand lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Their train would be departing that afternoon for Philidelphia. Cal was ready to be back in a more familiar place. He wanted to see his house again. Part of him was glad he was going to see his father, too. He craved for his old life to return back to him. He seated himself on a plush couch with a copy of the survivor's list. He had had many business associates aboard the _Titanic. _He was curious as to who he had business left with. He bobbed his knee up and down, already craving another cigarette.

_Ah, Thomas Burkley is alive. As is his wife, Edith, _Cal thought as his eyes slowly analyzed each line of names, _There's Evan Stein, too. Oh, and Phillip Robertson. Excellent. Who else... _Cal continued his way down the list until his eyes simply stopped. He was hovering over a name that pushed a chill down his spine, _Rose Dawson... that couldn't be... my Rose? _Cal looked up and straight out the large bay window that overlooked the street, where many heads were bobbing past, _When did she have the time to put her name on the list? She took... his name? That's what she is going by now? That cannot be right. _Cal searched further down the list and found his and Ruth's listed. He scoured the list tirelessly, _It has to be coincidence, _He told himself. But yet, there was not a single other person on the list named Rose. She was the one and only.

Cal slowly lowered the document and gnawed on his lip, _Rose Dawson... She would willingly take his name that quickly? She has always been so resistent to the idea of being Rose Hockley. _Cal stewed in his mind, unsure if he was upset or angry. In fact, he wasn't sure he felt anything at all. Cal thought about the night before in Central Park. There was a new side of Rose presented to him. One that was desperately scared and lonely. A girl that was so crushed by her life, she thought the only way out was to go overboard.

Cal left the list on the coffee table and immediately took the elevator back to his floor. He came through his hotel door quickly, his black overcoat trailing behind him. Ruth was in the sitting room upon him entering. She was listening to a radio report about the _Titanic _as she squeezed a lemon into her tea, giving it a dainty stir with a silver spoon. She lifted her eyes to see Cal standing behind a chair, his hands gripping the back of it.

"Where is Rose?" He asked.

"Still sleeping," Ruth replied, glancing towards the clock. It was nearly eleven in the morning.

"I think we should postpone the wedding."

"What?" Ruth shook her head, "What has gotten into you? Certainly not. There is no time to notify over two-hundred people of a date change!"

"Make an effort," Cal told her, "The wedding must be postponed."

"Mr. Hockley, what is the reason for this?" Ruth asked, turning the radio off now. Her voice left no wiggle-room for anything but the truth. Cal let out a sigh. How the woman drove him mad. He flared his nostrils and looked towards Rose's bedroom door, wanting to curse.

"Rose is not feeling well," Cal finally said, "She should feel healthy for the wedding."

"She still has time to recover," Ruth replied, drinking her tea.

"I don't think April 24th is such a good idea," Cal said sharply, "Call your maids. Make them change it."

"What, are you having second thoughts?" Ruth stood up now, "Do you not want her anymore because she's been soiled by some other man?"

Cal laughed. It's all he could think to do. He shook his head back and forth, glaring across the room at his future mother-in-law, "You stupid bitch," He said before he turned on his heels and left, leaving a white-faced Ruth behind, whose hands were shaking with anger.

...

Cal went to the diner at the corner of the street block. He sat at the bar with a cup of coffee, twirling a cigarette in his hand. He let out a long sigh and leaned against the bar, nearly defeated. A hurried waitress came by, refilling his coffee, and moving on without a second thought. Cal slowly brought his cigarette to his lips and watched the dozens of business men walking past in their trench coats with their suitcases swinging at their sides.

_How could all of this happen to me...? _Cal thought miserably, _I was promised the most beautiful woman in the world... promised an empire... and now, I don't even know what I want. That woman has yanked a rug out from underneath me. How can I marry her when I know she'll do nothing but regret it for the rest of her life? If she could attempt to take her life to escape it... how could I not expect her to do it later? What is wrong with me?! _Cal's nostrils flared in frustration as he snubbed his cigarette out on his saucer and immediately started another one, _I wanted to be her comfort! I wanted to be the one she could turn to! How could Dawson steal that from me? He'll have her heart no matter if he's travelling or if he's lying in a shallow grave. What was it about me that turned Rose off so greatly? What chased her away? How could she hate money and fortune when it's the only life she's known? A two day infatuation is suddenly enough to make her realize what she dearly wants?_

Cal thought to Ruth's face from when he had requested post-poning the wedding. The woman was nearly desperate to get her way. He shook his head as he took a gulp of coffee, bobbing his knee on his stool, _She'll do anything to make sure she can keep that house of her's. _Cal rubbed his eyes and let out a long sigh, taking another drag of his cigarette, _She'll never understand my reasoning. Our marriage is something I know Rose will never be completely happy with, but I simply cannot marry her this way. This is certainly not how I expected things to go. Rose is a shell of herself, completely carved out. I can't watch her be forced to walk down the aisle when she's nearly catotonic. I have to do something... but what?_

Cal looked around the diner at the crowd of people eating. A mix of people enjoying their day off and those scarfing food down on their meager breaks. He studied each person deeply, as if he was trying to uncover a code. He looked back to his coffee, a ribbon of smoke crossing his face, _Maybe Rose and I need a little get-away... just us two. I can take her somewhere else for a nice quiet weekend. We can work all of those kinks out of her... chase away the anxiety. I have to make her see that I really am the right choice for her, _Cal sat up, placing his cigarette in his mouth as he drummed his fingers on the end of the bar, _Take her somewhere and let her tell me what to do. Take me to see what she wants. Anything to get Dawson off her mind. That's a good plan. Ruth can't hold the wedding if Rose and I aren't even there._

...

Rose opened her eyes suddenly from where she lay in bed. Sunlight was bathing her room. She let out a discontent sigh, turning on her side to gaze out her window. Rose had had the best dream. She couldn't quite remember where she was, everything was simply a blur, but Jack was there. They were laughing together, as they naturally did. Rose could actually hear his voice. She could feel his skin. The dream was so comforting, that upon opening her eyes, her heart felt broken. Rose bit down on her nail as the noises of the city slowly made it to her ear.

She dressed slowly. Rose walked to her window and pulled the curtain back slightly, looking down on the bustling street. Rose craved so badly to find normalcy. She was absolutely terrified the feeling would never return to her. She seated herself at her vanity stool and began pulling her stockings up her legs.

_Jack, I think I'm really going crazy. Every day I wake up, nothing is better. I can't even hold on to the hope that I will be normal ever again. I feel so affected by everything. I'm so weak, _She paused from dressing, gripping her stockings in her hands, _You thought I was so strong... but you were wrong, Jack. You thought you could judge character, but you were wrong about me. So completely wrong. I can't fight for what I want. I'm nothing like Lena. I'm really just a poor little rich girl. It's all I'll ever be. _She felt hot tears building behind her eyes. She swallowed a lump in her throat and worked on getting her stockings all the way up her thighs.

Rose decided to make an appearance in the sitting room. When she entered, Ruth had a telephone dragged to the coffee table, the cord taut over the back of the couch. She looked very frustrated as she scribbled something down furiously. Ruth looked up when she heard Rose's movements.

"Rose," Ruth stood, "what is going on? Cal just told me he wants to postpone the wedding."

"He did?" Rose asked, knitting her eyebrows together.

"You didn't know? I figured _you _said something to him," Ruth crossed her arms over her chest, "Now I'm concerned. Rose, things need to change. You're chasing away a perfectly good man!"

"Cal isn't going anywhere," Rose said, though she partly wished the opposite was true, "He's right. We're in no condition to have the wedding."

"No, I do not accept that answer!" Ruth replied sharply, "You two will have time to rest once the wedding is over. How am I supposed to change the date with this short of notice?! You two will not even work with me. It's time somebody grew up and got over what happened!"

Rose felt her temper rising. For the first time since the _Titanic, _Rose didn't feel fear closing in on her. She didn't crumple into her feelings, ready to resign. She felt her hands curling into fists, "That's very easy for you to say when you were sitting comfy on a lifeboat watching it all happen!"

Ruth crossed to Rose quickly, nearly getting in her face, "You had the opportunity to take the first lifeboat off that God-forsaken ship! You have no room to be pulling a sympathy card on me! You refused to get on because you assumed some rat would keep you safe! Look what's happened to you now! You're a little girl in an adult's body! I'm beginning to think your sanity was completely chased out of you. What has gotten into you!? I've given you the world, nothing but comfort, and this is how you repay me?!" Ruth was nearly beside herself. She walked away from Rose for a moment, touching her temple lightly, "What will make you feel better? What will make all of your feelings go away?! What can I do to make you my daughter again?"

Rose clenched her teeth together.

"I swear I'm the only person who is actually dealing with what's going on!" Ruth continued, pacing back and forth.

Without saying a single word, Rose turned on the heels of her feet and left. Ruth opened her mouth to call after her, but her voice did not escape. Rose closed the door forcefully, leaving Ruth alone to listen to the ticking of the grandfather clock. She let out an aggravated sigh and sat back down in front of the phone, glancing at the numbers she had written down, before furiously dialing and waiting for the tone.


	11. Control

Chapter Eleven

_April 20th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose walked aimlessly through the city. She didn't even bother to keep track of her steps. She didn't care to remember where she had come from. The sun was high in the sky, only a few clouds drifting by. She brushed past people, not even caring to look at their face. Rose stared straight ahead, as if she was on a mission, but going nowhere no where in particular.

Rose suddenly found herself near the docks, where she had been only days before. It was empty, no large ships awaiting anybody. The crowd she had once seen was gone, too. Now, only workers and pedestrians were nearby. Rose stopped and looked at the long dock jutting out into the sea. It seemed as if everybody had moved on with their lives. There were no paperboys shouting about the disaster. No pops of cameras. No stenopads being scratched on. Everything was completely normal again.

Rose seated herself at a bench and let out a huff. She sat back and tilted her head up into the sun. The heat sunk into her skin. _I wish you were sitting on this bench with me, Jack. We would be people-watching naturally. You'd be getting ideas on people to draw. We'd be laughing about some woman's hat or another's scarf. We would be having a grand time together._

The sound of the ocean washing up against the concrete port set Rose on edge, so she quickly stood and went on with her walk, clenching and unclencing her fists. She looked around the city yet again. It felt somewhat foreign to her to be walking alone. She had never actually been left to herself before. Even in childhood, a nurse had always been present. A maid just outside her door. The gardener around the hedge from her. Someone was always right there, ready to guide her. Ready to report her words to her mother's ears.

_My mother thinks I'm helpless. Maybe I am. But it's her fault. If she had given me some freedom, some liberty, just maybe I would know how to deal with my emotions. Maybe I would know how to act better. I can't even pretend to please her. _

"Hey, excuse me, Miss!"

Rose paused and turned to see a woman in a black and white dress approaching her with a flyer in hand. When Rose glanced around, she noticed many women wearing the same thing speaking to other's on the street very passionately. Rose watched as the woman approached.

"Excuse me," She said, grinning all the while, "You look like a young intelligent woman. Would you like to be a nurse? We're extremely short in numbers, not only in New York, but across the nation. And with the survivors of the _Titanic _nearly about to burst the Central New York Hospital at its seams, nurses are in high demand!" She handed the flyer to Rose who looked over the words, "It's very fulfilling work. The hours may be long, but the amount of smiles and comfort you get out of your patients makes every moment worth it. If you have some time, would you like to tour the hospital, shadow a nurse, do something to maybe pique your curiosity?"

"I... don't think I have the education," Rose lowered the flyer, "I know nothing about medicine or caring techniques."

"It's not all about going to school," The woman told her, "We can do a lot of on the job training and you can go to school later."

Rose looked back to the flyer. _Me? Having a career? _It sounded nearly like a dream come true. Rose had always wanted a job. She wanted anything that would get her out of the house and away from chats over tea. _Could you imagine, Jack? Me, a nurse!_

"I'd love to tour the hospital," Rose told her, a genuine smile coming to her face.

"Oh, great! Let me walk you over there!" The woman said, gesturing for Rose to follow, "Oh, by the way, what's your name?"

"It's Rose. Rose Dawson."

...

"She's been gone for hours! I really think we should phone the police," Ruth said. Cal was sitting by the window in the sitting room. He had it open while he smoked a complimentary cigar from the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Ruth had her hands placed on her hips, her attitude apparent, "Are you even listening to me? I swear, you and Rose have lost your heads!"

"We don't need to call the police," Cal finally said, barely glancing her way.

"Oh? You think she can fend for herself out on those disgusting streets?"

"She's probably fine," Cal replied, "Rose likes to walk. That's probably what she's doing."

"Yeah, if she isn't tied up in some lunatics basement!"

"You really think everyone is out to get you, don't you?" Cal deadpanned, "New York City is a good place, Ruth. There are lots of independent women living here with no problems. I think Rose is fine to take a few hours to herself."

Ruth felt herself quiver, "I don't even know who you are anymore!"

_Yeah, join the club, _Cal thought as smoke trailed from his nostrils, "If another hour goes by, I'll go looking for her. I expect her to be back by our train time."

"Just what could she be doing?" Ruth crossed to look down onto the bustling streets below. A car was honking at a jay-walker, who waved them off dismissively, taking their time to the curb, "She doesn't know anybody here! Why would she just want to go out for a walk? All the comforts are right here in the hotel room!"

Cal let out a long sigh and sunk deeper in the couch, relishing each moment of his cigar, "Did you get your channels arranged for the wedding?"

"You'll be pleased to hear I have everything postponed until the beginning of May."

"See? I knew you could do it," Cal replied, inspecting his cigar before taking a puff, "I was thinking of taking Rose off for a weekend-getaway instead of the wedding."

Ruth's irritation seemed to draw back a bit at this comment, "Where will you two go?"

Cal shrugged, "Wherever she wants to."

"One more hour. If she's not back, you're going to find her," Ruth said, pointing her finger at him, "I want her here, under my watch. I don't want her out of either of our sight. We have to get her out of this funk. And you may well have an idea to help with that."

"I got a few up my sleeves," Cal said, looking out the window to the busy day.

...

"So, you want to be a nurse?" The woman asked. Her and Rose were standing on the side of a hallway in a bustling hospital. Many nurses raced by, some doctors as well. Patients were walking slowly with the help of family. People were chatting on benches. Some were crying.

"Yes, I think I do," Rose replied, still clutching the flyer in her hand.

"Come with me," The nurse gestured for her to follow. Rose quickly glanced at her name tag to see it said Nurse Brown, "Part of being a nurse is multi-tasking," She told Rose. Rose struggled at first to keep up with her steps, but she eventually fell into stride, "You have to be able to walk, talk, and write at the same time. Flexibility is key, too. Things change on a dime in a hospital. Oh, also, what's your name?"

"Rose Dawson."

"Nurse Dawson, got it," She replied, "My name is Annette Brown. I've been a nurse in New York City for seventeen years. Every day is different. Don't ever come in expecting business as usual. In nursing, there is no such thing as normal. A patient can be on the path to recovery and overnight be on a downward slope. The key to being a nurse is compassion, but you can't let your feelings get in the way. People die, Dawson. They die every day. Part of being a nurse is simply trying to help. Provide comfort. Sometimes, you're the last thing someone sees before they go."

Annette ushered Rose into a room where an elderly woman who was deathly pale was lying in bed. Her eyes had deep rings of purple and she was sniffling every few moments, pressing a handkerchief to her nose, "Good afternoon, Daisy," Annette greeted, coming to her bedside. Rose simply observed from the edge of the room, "How're you feeling?"

"Like crap!" The woman sneered, "Everything hurts! That other nurse is too damn rough!"

"I'm going to give you something to take the edge off," Annette said, reaching for a needle, "I promise I'll be gentle."

"Like hell you will!" The woman spat.

Rose watched as Annette cared for the woman without even thinking twice about her rotten attitude. Annette injected something into her arm, then fluffed her pillow and brought her a fresh quilt. She chatted with Daisy a few moments longer before they left the room.

"I took you to see Daisy because I wanted you to see how it's not always sunshine and butterflies," Annette told Rose as they went to a nurse station. Annette cleansed her hands with a damp rag and checked the woman's name off on a clipboard hanging just above the cluttered table, "People are in pain. They're not the most pleasant to deal with. People will spit at you, call you names, sometimes even slap your buttocks, but as a nurse, you take it. Do you still want to be a nurse?"

"I think I do, yes!" Rose nodded, "I've always wanted a career of my own."

"Never had a job?" She asked, now inspecting Rose head to toe, "Let me guess... finishing school?"

"Yes," Rose replied, almost feeling ashamed.

"Well, you know what, good for you," Annette grinned, "Good on you for putting yourself out here. We could really use the help. How long have you been in New York City?"

"Just a few days," Rose told her.

"You picked the right city to come to," Annette said, "Come in tomorrow morning. My doctor and I will give you a shift and a shadow. You could really make a difference here, Nurse Dawson."

Rose grinned at this thought, _Did you hear that, Jack? I could make a difference._

...

Rose returned to her hotel room feeling nearly giddy inside. She had felt the jubilation of life touch her again and she was so grateful. When she entered the hotel room, everyone's bags were sitting in the main room. Cal and Ruth stood upon her entering. Rose felt her happiness subside immediately. Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach. She had forgotten about the train.

"Where have you been? Our train leaves in an hour!" Ruth cried.

"I... I was... went to..." Rose stumbled over her words and cleared her throat.

"What's that in your hands?" Ruth crossed and held her palm outwards to Rose. Rose made no move to hand the flyer over to her mother. Ruth forcefully took it from Rose's hands, glaring at her angrily. Cal watched, nearly disconnected, his hands jammed into his pockets. Ruth looked at the flyer, not quite sure what was looking back at her, "... Nursing?" She raised her eyes to Rose. Rose's face had flushed and she looked rather embarrassed. Moments ago, she had felt certain of herself. Now, she wasn't so sure, "Where have you been?"

"The hospital," Rose finally found her words, "I want to be a nurse, Mother."

"A nurse?" Ruth echoed incredulously, "You don't need a career. _He _has a career!"

"I realize now what I want," Rose told her, almost pleadingly, "The _Titanic _was a wake-up call, Mother. I want to help people."

"Absolutely not!" Ruth crumpled the flyer up and carelessly threw it on the floor, "You've really lost your mind if you think I'm going to allow you to dress up like a nurse and work in a disgusting sludge-filled hospital! Nursing is for women who aren't good enough for a husband! You don't need a job, you have a husband! Get your bag from your room, we have a train to catch." Rose almost felt like crying. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, trying qualm her upset stomach. She stiffly began towards her room, "And I don't want to hear another peep about this again, do you understand?"

Rose paused at her bedroom door, gripping the door knob so tightly her knuckles turned white. She looked over her shoulder at her mother, her bones quivering beneath her skin. Without another word, Rose went into her room, her shoulders rising and falling heavily. She grabbed her duffel bag out from underneath her bed and took a few moments to grab towels, small toiletries from the bathroom, and some more knick-knacks from the shelf. She paused and looked at herself in the vanity mirror. Slowly, she came closer, staring at the reflection. Her duffel bag shifted forward into the vanity stand, making it shake. Rose looked deep into her own eyes.

"She does not control me," Rose said through clenched teeth, "She can't control me."

That's when Rose decided she could not return to Philidelphia.


	12. The Great Escape

Chapter Twelve

_April 20th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose felt the weight of her duffel bag against her hip as she followed her mother and Cal towards the train station. The sidewalk was packed. Rose's eyes darted to complete strangers, hoping her eyes cried for help, but not a soul looked at her and they continued on with their day. The train station had a full crowd atop it. Every bench and ledge were packed with people waiting for their train. It was easy to tell majority were passengers of the _Titanic. _Wealthy people travelling with very meager belongings. Ruth looked around, momentarily.

"Not a place to sit and wait for our train," She scoffed, turning to Cal and Rose.

Cal glanced up to the time board where a train station employee was sliding out a placard for the train to Boston and replacing it with a train departing for Atlanta, "Our train should be here in the next five minutes. We won't have to wait long."

Rose looked around the train station slowly. She watched children play with small toys while their parents busied themselves with chatting or reading. People brushed past each other dragging trunks and bags. The train station was very loud.

_What am I going to do? _Rose thought, feeling very fidgety, _I can't run now. Cal could surely catch me. I can't get on this train, I just can't, Jack. For the first time in my life, I think I'm beginning to understand what I really want. I couldn't help you, Jack, so I've decided I must help other people. I can't be a housewife. I can't be expected to just sit at home and do needlework and look presentable. I have to do something more with myself. I must figure something out. I refuse to become a piece of furniture in my own house._

A train whistle cried out, making Rose turn her attention towards the shiney train sitting in the station. Steam rose from the tracks and chugged from the stack as slowly, the train groaned to life and began moving from the station. It was departing for Boston. The train to Philidelphia would be arriving any moment after that. Rose looked around at the crowd again, thinking of Lena. She was sure Lena was already in Albany, thinking about the baby. Rose lowered her eyes to the grey cobblestone path, sighing. She never even got to say goodbye.

"Do you feel okay?" Cal suddenly appeared at Rose's side. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest. She looked up to Cal as he stared back at her.

"I feel fine," She replied, breaking the eye contact to watch a little girl walking by with a rabbit-doll under her arm.

Another train whistled out and soon their designated train was squealing to a stop at the platform. Many people were now standing, gathering their families and belongings, and queuing up to get on the train. Ruth present both Cal and Rose their tickets and together, they all stood in line to await boarding. Rose's heart was thudding wildly loud. She looked around for yet another exit plan.

_I have to do something. I have to act now, _Rose bit down on her lip and looked to Cal and Ruth. They seemed rather distracted by everything else around them, but she knew sneaking away would only draw their attention to her, _Why did I have to be born with this bright red hair? Anywhere I go, people will always notice me. _

Slowly, the line of passengers inched forward. Rose gripped her duffel bag strap tightly. Her entire body was beginning to shake at the idea that she may have to get on a train and leave herself behind. Rose was not ready to accept this. She couldn't get on the train and steam straight into disaster. She knew there was absolutely no way she would survive in her old life. Rose wanted nothing more than to wake up tomorrow morning and go see Nurse Brown, be shown the ropes, be counted on. Rose wanted the responsibility, the fulfillment. She wanted anything other than what she had now. The line moved forward again. A man at the front pulled himself onto the train and then turned to help his wife up. The train conductor with shiney gold buttons began punching holes in the next passengers tickets. Rose looked at her ticket. PHILIDELPHIA. It was a ticket straight to her own personal hell. Again, the line stepped forward, and soon, it was their turn.

Cal, Ruth, and Rose handed their tickets over to be punched. Cal gripped Rose's elbow and helped her up into the train. Her heart was beating, her hands were shaking, as she entered the train. Many seats were already taken. The train was packed and loud. Many passengers were still choosing seats, fighting over the one closest to the window. Others were tucking their luggage into the overhead compartment in anticipation of a long bumpy ride. Ruth lead them towards the back of the car where four seats facing each other had not been claimed yet. Cal and Ruth set their luggage at their feet and seated themselves across from each other by the window. Rose slowly lowered herself into the seat beside Cal, setting her duffel bag on her lap.

She looked across the aisle and out the windows overlooking the train platform. The line for the train was nearly finished now. Conductors were walking up and down the train, doing their final checks before they gave the all-clear to the engineer at the front. Rose watched as a man juggling many bags stumbled up the steps and into the aisle.

_This is my chance, _Rose took a deep breath, holding it in her lungs. The man stepped forward cautiously. Rose stuck her foot into the man's path in the aisle. He struck it, wobbling back and forth, before he tumbled over, raining all of his luggage onto Cal and Ruth, who howled and leapt to their feet as it all fell over. Rose darted behind the man, pressing her hand to his back to squeeze past. She burst between the cars.

"Wait, wait!" She called to the conductor who was about to slide the door shut, "I must get off."

"If you get off, you'll miss the train, ma'am," He told her, holding the handle of the door, "We can't wait for anyone. We're on a schedule."

"That's fine," Rose said, jumping onto the platform, "Please, go on without me."

Cal swore under his breath as he knelt to help the man recollect his luggage. Ruth seated herself, rubbing her knees sorely from where she had been struck. The man apologized profusely, saying he must have tripped over his own clumsy feet. Cal helped him gather all the luggage into his hands and then sat himself back down. But when he did, he noticed Rose wasn't in her seat. The train let out a whistle and then a jerk as it came to life. Cal stood and looked around the car, wondering if Rose had meerly just tried to dodge the falling luggage. But a flash of red caught his attention. He froze, looking out the window towards the platform. Rose was holding her duffel bag close to her body as she dashed across the platform and down the steps.

"Damn it all to hell!" Cal sneered.

"What?" Ruth looked to him.

"Did you notice something was missing?" Cal hissed. He marched down the aisle and to the door as slowly the train began to move. He was stopped by a conductor who was standing at the door, however, "I must get off."

"Sorry, sir. The train is in motion. I can't allow anyone off now."

"I have to get off," Cal demanded, "You just let my fiancée off!"

"Well, she got off before the train was moving."

Cal felt his temper rising. His nostrils flared as he turned around and went back to his seat with a red face. Ruth was staring at Rose's seat. Her eyes quickly turned on Cal.

"Rose got off the train," Cal said stiffly as the train gained speed and left the station. Outside the windows, everything was becoming a blur. Ruth slowly brought her hand to her mouth as she comprehended what had happened. Cal squeezed his hands into fists, "She got what she wanted. To get away from us."

...

Rose ran to the nearest park. Her face was flushed pink as she found a bench under a tree to sit on. She placed her duffel bag in her lap and opened it, to recount what she had. She had many nice things from the hotel. Things that would probably fetch a pretty penny. She dug to the bottom of the bag and pulled out the Heart of the Ocean. She stared deep into the dark blue jewel, the sun making it reflect in many beautiful ways. A couple strolled by, making Rose lower it back into the bag. She watched them cautiously as they continued on their way.

Finally, she smiled. _I did it, Jack. I actually did it! How's that for a poor little rich girl!_

Rose let out a long satisfied sigh, looking around the park. It was a beautiful day out, not too hot, not too cold. And Rose was all by herself. She was free. She felt the weight of oppression lift from her shoulders. She felt the cold chains of despair break from wrists and ankles. The only thing she could think about was tomorrow morning, when she'd be walking into the hospital for her first real training session.

_Jack, if only you could see me now!_


	13. Guardian Angel

Chapter Thirteen

_April 21st, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Dawn was breaking across the city when Rose opened her eyes. She felt rather stiff and her neck had a crick in it. She rubbed her shoulders sorely as she sat up, ruffling her curls at the same time. She had spent the night on a bench using her duffel bag as a pillow. Not the comfiest, but Rose was not phased in any way. In fact, she had slept rather well and felt refreshed for the day. Rose figured she should find a diner and wash up in the restroom before heading towards the hospital.

She walked along the sidewalk. Early birds were up and about. Some were leisurely strolling, others were power walking towards their job. Rose took the time to admire everything on the way. She couldn't remember the last time she had been in New York City. She figured it must have been last year when they had arrived to sail for Europe, but she just couldn't be sure.

Rose thought about her mother and Cal. The train would be arriving in Philidelphia later that morning. She wondered what they thought about her. What they were saying about her. But at the same time, she didn't care. Her only hope was that maybe she would never have to see them again, just as she wanted on the _Carpathia. _Rose, in a way, couldn't believe she had lucked out. Something had actually gone in her favor. That had never happened in her entire life. Rose knew she was starting a new chapter. There was absolutely no going back now. She was certain the bridges really were burned. This would be a chapter in which she was in control, no longer a background character in her own story. Today was the day she thought for herself. No more being passive. No more being submissive. She would say what she wanted, do as she liked, and she wouldn't take flak from anybody else.

"I'm going to be a nurse, dammit," She told herself as she entered the nearest diner. She returned a wave to the waitress behind the counter before she headed for the bathroom, which was luckily vacant. Rose closed the lid of the toilet and set her duffel bag on top.

She then went to stand in front of the mirror. She fluffed her hair and rubbed her cheeks to put some color in them. Rose felt she still looked rather icy from the accident. She reached into her duffel bag for the bar of soap she had snagged from her hotel's bathroom. She lathered her hands up in warm water and began scrubbing her face deeply. She rinsed and looked back to the mirror while patting her face with a towel she also had packed. _Is that really me? _Rose leaned in closer to inspect her face, _Is this what I've always looked like? I feel as if I barely even recognize myself. Jack... do you think I'm doing the right thing? _She leaned away from her reflection now and crossed her arms over her chest, staring distantly, _Would you want me to be acting this reckless? Just a week ago, I was ending a six-month long parade of Europe. Eating at all the finest restaraunts, buying the trendiest dresses, and viewing historical landmarkers. Now, I'm living out of a bag and washing my face in a public washroom. I don't miss a thing about it... but I just want you to be proud of me._

Rose stiffly changed into a grey dress with white lace on the collar and short sleeves. She smoothed it gently over her body, fumbling with the zipper up her back. She pinned her hair into a bun and sighed when two short side bangs refused to go up. They hung down beside her face. Rose pulled some of the make up she had stolen out. She dabbed a light pink lipstick on and brushed her face in blush, giving her face some color.

_That's better... _Rose thought, turning in front of the mirror, _I can do this. I just can't lose focus. There is no going back. This is my new life, _Rose took in a deep breath, raising her shoulders, _I don't regret a thing, Jack. Not at all._

Rose glanced to her shoes and shifted her weight back and forth, _What do you think Jack? The shoes are little too light, but they're all I have. They won't mind, hopefully. Who's going to be looking at my shoes. They're all too busy feeling miserable. They won't question my help, _Rose looked back to her reflection again, _I'm going to walk straight to that hospital and do my absolute best. I'll show my mother. If she even dares come looking for me, she can find me caring for patients, doing something with my life. Jack, I think I really did make the right decision after all! _Rose smiled at herself, _This my chance to prove everyone- and myself- wrong!_

Rose pulled her duffel bag over her shoulder. She stopped at the door, her hand on the knob. She glanced upwards with a small grin, _Thanks for being my guardian angel, Jack._

...

"Wow, I'm surprised you actually showed up," Annette Brown said as Rose approached the main nurse station at the end of the leading hallway. She seemed to just be coming on shift and looked much more alert and neat than when Rose had seen her the day before.

"Really?" Rose asked, looking over all the instruments on the counter before her.

"Typically when we do recruiting events, we get lots of empty promises," Anette told her, reaching for a clipboard, "I can tell you really want this, Nurse Dawson."

"I do," Rose nodded, "I really do."

"Well, great," Anette flashed a pearly grin at her, "Let me show you where the nurse's keep their things and we'll get you a uniform and name tag. Then, you and I will start the morning rounds. Taking blood, administering medicine, changing bedsheets, the works," She began walking in her quick fashion. Rose was a fast learner, however, and rhytmically fell into step with her, "I'm going to show you every aspect of nursing over this shift. Which, by the way, is twelve hours. Are you prepared for that?"

"No problem," Rose shrugged. _Not like I have anywhere else to be, anyway._

"I like you already," Annette laughed, "Things may get gross, they may get sad, they may even get hectic, but that's what nursing is all about. And I like it."

Anette and Rose walked around the corner and entered the first door on the left. It wasn't large by any means and the white paint on the walls was rather overwhelming and exhausting. There were cubbie shelves along the back wall where many purses and bags were shoehorned in. Along the wall beside that was a small kitchen with a modest counter and an ice box. The center of the room was full of tables.

"This is where our room is," Annette explained, guiding Rose to the cubbies, "Go on and put your bag away. I promise it will be safe here. We have a great bunch of nurses, I think you'll fit in just fine," Rose lifted her lumpy bag and shoved it into a cubbie. Annette crossed behind her to another door Rose hadn't seen yet, "This is our utility closet. It's where we keep extra uniforms, diagrams, and charts. If someone ever throws up or spurts blood on you, feel free to change uniforms. The hamper to have uniforms cleaned is over by the ice box," Annette spoke quickly, pointing with her pen, "Go on and grab a uniform in your size. I'll leave you alone to change."

Annette closed the door behind her. Rose grabbed a uniform and laid it out on the community table. It was a short sleeve white dress with buttons running down the front of it. It was long and would probably hang just beneath her knees. Rose dropped her current dress and began fumbling with the buttons up her new dress. The fabric was nice and cool against her skin and it felt well once she had the buttons finished.

_Jack, oh my God, can you see me? I'm wearing a uniform! I'm shaking with joy._

There was a curt knock and Annette entered again, "Looks good. Here's your name tag," She held a black badge with a small silver pin out to Rose. She crossed and took it into her palm. That's when her body really began to shake. Boldly, in all caps, it said DAWSON.

_I'll always be your honorary Dawson. I'm doing this for you, Jack. If I can help one person, it will be worth it. I'll be paying it forward in your memory. You showed me what I was really capable of. I'm sorry for ever doubting you... and myself._

"Go on, clip it. Our first patient is Daisy again. Let's go see if she's cranky."

...

"Ruth... Ruth, wake up," She felt a nudge. Ruth squeezed her eyes for a moment before she opened them, blinking rapidly. It was mid-afternoon. The train was alive with movement. People were bustling by in the aisle dragging whiney children and trunks. Passengers were chatting lively as they pulled their luggage down from the overhead compartments. Ruth unpeeled her face from the window, rubbing her red forehead slowly. She looked out the window to a familiar sight. Philidelphia. She recognized the signature architecture. Tall buildings. Busy streets. A city full of life. It didn't comfort her, however, or bring a sigh of relief up her throat. If anything, it disheartened her. Ruth looked over her shoulder to Cal, who had stood and was now stretching.

Cal and Ruth exited the train in the last of the crowd funneling off. They walked to the edge of the platform and looked out over their home city. They were silent and a very unlikely duo to be taking in the skyline before them together.

"You have to go back to New York... you know that, right?" Ruth looked to him with sharp eyes. Cal held in a sigh. His irritation was grinding beneath his skin. He brought himself to gaze back at Ruth.

"You really want me to go after her?" He asked, "Did you see how desperate she was to get away? Do you really think things will bode well for me if I return for her? I'm not going to look like some criminal dragging her back kicking and screaming."

"So, that's it?" Ruth turned towards him, her hands curling into fists, "You're giving up?"

"For right now," Cal let out a huff, sagging his shoulders, "Yes, I am."

"You can't just _give up,_" Ruth said incredulously, "Think about what's on the line, Cal!"

"I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed," Cal said, very quietly and full of ice, "I want to drink my favorite brandy. I want to wear my own clothes again. So, for once, Ruth, could you please get off my ass?"

And with that, Cal clunked down the stairs, not even looking back at Ruth as he stepped onto the street. He deftly pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it, all the while swinging his small suitcase at his side. He walked down the sidewalk without so much as a second thought. Ruth remained at the top of the stairs, her jaw dropped. Anger throbbed in her veins, she heard her heart beating in her ears. _The absolute nerve. _

Ruth let out a long sigh and looked out to Philidelphia once more. She decided to call for a cab and go home. She had to speak with Nathan Hockley.


	14. Nurse Dawson

Chapter Fourteen

_April 21st, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose closed the door to Daisy's room behind her and Annette. The moment the door clicked into the threshold, Annette began snorting with laughter. She turned to Rose with a big grin, shaking her head, "She is such a bitch. I don't get how a woman could be so bitter."

Rose felt so at ease with Annette. She seemed so genuine and open with her. Rose couldn't help but snicker with Annette as well, "She really got upset when I asked her to sit up to change her pillow case. I mean, what did she want me to do? Leave it all gross from her hair that she doesn't let us wash?"

The women broke into more cackles. Annette pressed a warm hand to Rose's shoulder and squeezed it, "Oh, Rose, I'm going to love having you here. Let's head back to the station and see who is next and get our tools."

The two nurses broke into their fast walks back for the station. Annette handed the roster to Rose and coached her on reading the rounds. Rose looked through a few of the names before singling out who was next, "Looks like it's a Mr. Arnold Hays. Fifty-two years old."

"Oh, Mr. Hays," Annette nodded, reaching for a needle, "We need a blood sample. Think you can do it?" Annette held the needle out to Rose who slowly took it into her hand, "It's kind of your right of passage as a nurse," Annette said, "You know, poking people with needles is probably one of the hardest things to do as a nurse, but we do it a lot. It'd be best if you got comfortable with that quickly. What do you think?"

"You don't think I need a real nursing certification to do this?" Rose asked, hooking the clipboard back on the wall.

"Look, I've been a nurse since 1895. You didn't have to go to nursing school back then. If you had a passion to learn and help, you had what it took to be a nurse," Annette said as she gathered gauze and gloves, "Today, they've made it so uptight and nearly aristrocratic, in my opinion. Perfectly capable people who could be nurses can't, because they can't afford to go to school, financially or even physically because of their families. They can't just uproot to go study at one of the very few schools in this country. If you want to pursue school, by all means, do it," Annette paused and looked at Rose. That's when Rose noticed her honey brown eyes, "But no, Rose, I don't think you need a degree. I know you've got what it takes to be a nurse."

Rose looked to the needle in her hand and took a deep breath, "Okay. Let's do this."

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Ruth had a maid bring her the phone to the library. It was one of Ruth's favorite spots simply because it was so quiet. The tall wall-length windows overlooked a beautiful view of Philidelphia. Ruth lowered her tea cup to the table and lifted the phone to her ear.

"Nathan Hockley, please," She told the operator who then patched her through. It rang and rang. Ruth began to wonder if anyone would even pick up. She sat back in her chair, using the cord to bring the phone closer to her. She glanced out the window as a flock of birds flitted by in the sky.

"Hockley residence," There was fumbling as a maid picked the phone up.

"Hi, yes, this is Ruth DeWitt Bukatter. I'd like to speak with Nathan."

"Mr. Hockley is currently with his son in the sitting room."

"Well, go fetch him," Ruth said, her voice leaving no room to argue.

"Yes, ma'am. One moment."

There was more fumbling as the phone was set down. Ruth listened closely to the sound of shoes on hardwood floors. She let out a sigh and grabbed her tea, drinking it slowly as it was still quite warm. Finally, she heard hard thuds again and the phone moved.

"This is Nathan."

"Hello, Nathan. It's Ruth."

"Oh, Ruth," He didn't seem pleased to hear her voice, "What can I do for you?"

"I would like for you to speak with Cal. Have him go back to New York City."

"And just why would I ask him to do that?" Nathan's voice was gruff. She could hear him taking a drag of a cigar from the other end. Ruth dug her nails into her dress, her nostrils flaring as her temper rose.

"To go back for Rose, of course," Ruth said, "She was seriously harmed on the _Titanic. _She is not thinking straight. We must bring her back and make her well for the wedding."

"From what I understand, there is not going to be a wedding," Nathan replied. He let out a long sigh into the phone, "Ruth, I'm not sending my son out on some campaign to bring your reckless daughter back. In fact, I don't think any of this is worth it anymore."

"What do you mean?" Ruth snapped.

"What I mean is," Nathan said, just as sharply, "Rose is not the kind of girl for my son. I don't think she's suitable. She makes messes she doesn't want to clean up. She runs away from her problems. Hell, every time I've met the girl, she's a disassociated lune. Rose is not the kind of woman I want marrying into the Hockley name. And, anyway, _we _were always getting the short-end of the stick. Besides her being drop-dead gorgeous, there was nothing more to her. From what I've seen, those two getting married will do nothing but wreak havoc on our families alike. There are plenty of other elite women for Caledon to marry, you must understand. As for your daughter, I'm sorry she's missing, but we will be going no further with this."

"You cannot be serious," Ruth was nearly breathless.

"Oh, I'm serious," Nathan said, bordering threatening, "You're lucky I don't sue you for what I lost. What about that engagement ring Rose misplaced on the _Titanic_? Or that damn Heart of the Ocean I spent a fortune on? Just be glad I find it all frivolous. If I wanted to, I could take all you have left. That comfy house of yours, all those fine jewels, your maid staff... I could have it all if I wanted, Ruth, but I won't waste another thought on it. Good bye."

Nathan cut the line quickly. Ruth lowered the phone, her face flushing. She set the phone back down and looked out the window. Her chest was rising and fall heavily. She gripped the arms of her chair tightly, digging her nails into the leather. She clenched her teeth together.

In the next moment, however, Ruth let out a scream. She stood, grabbing her tea cup and hurling it across the room. She kicked the phone off the coffee table. She pushed the chair away from her, nearly making it fall over. She thrashed around angrily. Ruth grabbed the curtains drawn back from the windows and pulled, making the entire curtain rod clatter to the ground and the velvet curtains crumple. She paused, her shoulders rising and falling heavily, as she looked around at all of her destruction.

"Damn it!" She shouted, her voice raspy, "Damn it all to hell!"

...

_New York City, New York_

Rose lifted the needle to eye level. She looked into the syringe at the dark red blood. She had never seen so much blood before her. Rose lowered her eyes to focus on pushing the gauze against Mr. Hays' arms while Annette readied a bandage to wrap around his arms. They left shortly after and Annette showed her where to put the blood for the doctors.

"Hey, good job," Annette said, patting her on the back, "I'd say that was pretty good for a first time. You only missed the vein once."

"I hope I didn't hurt him," Rose replied, washing her hands in a basin.

"Don't worry about that," Annette grinned, "No one is staying in the hospital for a spa treatment."

The two women returned to the nursing station.

"Hey, I have to assist with a surgery next," Annette told her, "Do you think you could go on the rounds without me? Do you feel confident?"

"I guess it really just depends what I need to do," Rose said.

"Well, this next patient is kind of in and out of consciousness. Washing him up a little and checking all his fluids would be easy for you, I think," Annette said as she began preparing herself for surgery, "Grab the roster. Go ahead and see what you're dealing with."

Rose grabbed the clipboard and pressed her finger to it, going down the line until she stopped. She felt her heart nearly seize in her chest. Her whole body flushed and Rose felt extremely cold. She checked again. And again. She felt herself nearly growing woozy at the thought. Annette glanced over her shoulder at her.

"He's a little dazed and confused," Annette continued, "He always thinks I'm some other person. He is clearly not in the right state of mind. Did you find his name?"

"Yes," Rose said breathlessly.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll see you in an hour or so," Annette smiled before she walked off towards the back of the hospital.

Rose lowered the clipboard and looked over all her tools. She then brought the roster back to her eyes to be certain. Rose was sure she had suffered a stroke of some kind. She thought her mind was playing tricks on her. But there it was, plain as day.

Jack Dawson.


	15. Reunion

Chapter Fifteen

_April 21st, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose didn't think her legs would support her. Her knees buckled as she walked towards the next patients door. She paused, keeping her face from the window on the door. Rose slowly looked towards the wall for the clipboard of information. There, beside his clipboard, was a plaque: J. Dawson. Rose closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. She grabbed the report and looked at the last update on his chart.

_Last thing patient remembers is being on the deck with a lover aboard the Titanic. Patient claims to having no knowledge of the sinking. He awoke thinking he was aboard the Titanic, in the infirmary. He claims to have felt like he simply passed out. Patient is agitated easily. Is not mentally clear, as of now. Does not recognize anybody, not even the nurses who have been treating him. Still asking for "Rose". He often thinks he is speaking with "Rose". Extract blood, warm, and recirculate at the next shift. Brought him survivor's list- was not interested._

Rose lowered the clipboard and glanced back to his name on the wall. Could this really be Jack? Rose felt the tiniest bit of hope peak in her heart, wanting it to be true. He had actually survived!? Rose gripped the clipboard and slowly placed her hand on the handle. She took in a deep breath through her nose, releasing unevenly from her mouth. She slowly inched the door forward and poked her head through.

The room was standard of what she had seen. Just barely a room six feet wide and deep. One simple window overlooking the cityscape of New York City. There were tables, chairs, carts, and personal shelves for gifts and knick knacks. However, Jack's room was barren. No wilting flowers gifted from some absent family member. No little candies, courtesy of friends. The surfaces were free of anything. Rose slowly stepped into the room. Her heels clacked on the tile. She closed the door absolutely silently. There, lying in the bed, seemed the be the only thing in the entire room. And it was him. It really was.

Rose covered her hand over her mouth, tears pricking her eyes. She inched towards him, sniffling, her breathing hitched. She came to the edge of the bed and set the clipboard down, gripping the siderails. He was chalk white. His eyes were ringed in shades of purple. His lips were pale. Rose reached down and gently pushed his hair from his eyes, revealing his bold brow.

"Jack," Rose breathed. A tear ran down the bridge of her nose and fell onto Jack's cheek. His eyes fluttered and slowly opened. His eyes were bloodshot, but the blue shimmered in the center. He cocked his head to the side sorely and looked up at her, "Jack, it's me, Rose."

"No... No, I'm just going crazy," Jack moaned, turning his head away, "You won't get out of my head. You won't even let me sleep in peace. Who are you really?"

"Jack, it's really me!" Rose cried out, "Rose DeWitt Bukater. You remember me, don't you?"

Jack leaned away from her. His eyes scanned every inch of her, darting up and down. Rose folded her hands together, nearly pleadingly, "It's not your mind, Jack," Rose breathed, "It's really me."

"It... It can't be," Jack looked so sick with worry, "The Rose I knew was not a nurse."

"I am now," Rose told him, "It's such a long story, but I swear to you, Jack, I really am Rose."

Jack slowly sat up and lifted his hand out to Rose. She gently slipped her fingers between his. She squeezed extra hard. Jack watched their enclosed hands gently. He finally lifted his gaze to Rose, "It really is you."

"And it's really you," Rose lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Jack's neck. She fell onto the bed beside him, laying across his chest, "Jack, I thought you were dead," She said, listening to his heart beat.

"Rose... I," Jack shook his head for a moment, "I don't remember anything."

Rose sat up, gripping Jack's hand and staring worriedly into his eyes, "You don't remember any of the sinking? You were with me the whole time."

"I... I don't know," Jack said, "I see small snippets but I don't know if it's not just my imagination."

Rose sighed and shook her head, "Anything you saw on the _Titanic _was beyond your wildest imagination."

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Nathan and Cal sat in their lounge room. Each had a glass of brandy and a cigar. Nathan had a newspaper in his lap. Cal was reading up on reports he had missed during his vacation. Nathan grunted to himself as he read, obviously displeased. He tapped the ash off his cigar roughly. Cal raised his eyes beneath his brows, watching his father.

"Something wrong, father?" Cal asked.

Nathan looked up at his son, lowering his cigar from his mouth, "When are you going out?"

"What do you mean?" Cal knitted his eyebrows together.

"You have yet to go out for one evening since getting here. You should be reappearing at galas and parties. Caledon, I'm not going to live much longer. I'd hate to die before I see you marry well. Then the business will have to be sold in interests elsewhere," Nathan shook his head, very upset, "I'm tired of seeing you mope around!"

"I'm not moping," Cal looked exasperated.

"Don't tell me you're sad about Rose," Nathan said. Cal didn't reply, he simply stared at his father. Nathan let out a scoff, "You're kidding me right? She's a good-for-nothing! Why do you sell yourself short with a girl like that?"

Cal pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "Must we really talk about this?"

"Look, you need to forget about Rose. I will not plan one more thing for that wedding."

"That's fine," Cal shrugged, clenching his teeth, "I'm the one who told Ruth to put it off to begin with."

Nathan raised his eyesbrows, "Really, now?"

"There is something very wrong with Rose, it seems," Cal said, after taking a drag of his cigar, "She was subjected to some very cold temperatures for an extended amount of time. She needs treatment. But her conditions are blocking good judgement."

"So? That's not your responsibility," Nathan sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, "Ill or not, I've never liked that girl."

"Mr. Hockley," A maid appeared in the doorway, "Visitor at the door for you?"

"Eh? Who?" Nathan asked, agitated at being interrupted. It was his pet peeve.

"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater."

"Goddamn, this witch will not quit," Nathan slammed his drink down and carelessly dropped his cigar into the ashtray. He undid his purple silk smoking robe and pulled on his overcoat, "Go on, get up. You're coming, too. We need full representation."

"Father, I-"

"Caledon," Nathan's voice was very threatening. Cal sighed and also got redressed. The two Hockley men strode out from the back-end of the hallway and into the front foyer. The tall oak doors were left open and Ruth stood at the threshold, her hands folded infront of her, "Good afternoon, Ruth. What can I do for you?"

"I want you to reconsider," Ruth told him with a very calm and even voice.

"Ruth, I believe I made myself very clear," Nathan clasped his hands together behind his back. He was a man of business, an often demanding one, but no one ever questioned him nor defied him. His dark brown eyes pierced Ruth, who had a face of stone. She, too, was a woman of demanding means. And she was not used to things not going her way.

"You must," Ruth said, struggling to keep her voice in the same octave, "If not for the sake of the wedding, but for Rose," Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked rapidly, "My daughter is out there somewhere, in need of medical attention. Who knows, maybe even a psychiatatric evaluation," She shook her head dismissively, "She will not... talk to me," Her voice started cracking, "And when she does, it's hateful words. She will not come to me. But Cal... Cal has a chance of talking to her. Getting some sense back into her mind. That was not my daughter. It was a stranger in my daughter's body."

"Why don't you just hire a P. I?" Nathan deadpanned, but then he grinned hideously, "Oh, well, I guess... how could you afford that?" Ruth's face show hurt now as her mask began to crack, "It was a pleasure speaking, Ruth. Please, let's make this the last time, though, hm?" Nathan continued on with his mocking smile. He then slammed the door on Ruth and shook his head, walking away, "We shouldn't hear from her again," He said, getting to the hallway, "Have Lindsey bring me a new bottle of brandy, will you?"

Cal was left standing at the door. He was looking down at his shoes. He then turned and looked out the peephole of the door. Ruth was standing with her back to the door. She seemed to be wiping her face of tears. She shook her head and glanced around once more before she began down the porchsteps and through the winding path off their property. Cal stepped back from the door and tapped his finger to his chin slowly.

...

_New York City, New York_

At the end of her shift, she returned to Jack. He was sitting up in bed reading a magazine. He still looked awfully tired. Rose knew she wouldn't stay much longer so Jack could get his sleep. She came and sat on the edge of his bed, setting her duffel bag on the floor.

"Hey," Jack said, softly. He offered a weak grin.

"How're you feeling?" She asked, gently carressing his cheek.

"Better," Jack replied, "Well, at least not crazy."

Rose giggled, "Good, I'm not feeling that way either."

Jack smiled and his eyes drifted down for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together as he resituated himself on his pillow, "Dawson?" He asked, now looking back up at Rose. She glanced down to her badge and then back to Jack, "You... took my name?"

"Do you really think I could stay DeWitt Bukater or become Hockley?" She shook her head, still smiling. Tears were welling up in her eyes again, "I don't feel like anything but a Dawson."


	16. Midnight Visit

Chapter Sixteen

_April 22nd, 1912_  
_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

The moon was full that night, and directly overhead. It was the middle of the night and Cal found himself walking down the streets. He was quite buzzed after more drinking by himself. As dusk began descending upon the sky, Cal dressed up and told his father he was going out. He then found a bar and drank himself deep, all by his lonesome. No one approached him. No one even really threw a second glance at him in the musty dimlit bar. And he had liked it.

Cal hiccuped and staggered slightly over a hump in the sidewalk. He then began ascending an uphill climb. Cal glanced up to the sky, his head spinning. He accidentally stepped off the curb and splashed dirty road water onto the cuffs of his trousers. Cal didn't care. He simply found his way back to the sidewalk and continued on. He reached into his coat for a cigarette and lit it, coming to a stop in front of a tall gate. He looked through the gate at the dark grey shingled house on the hill. The DeWitt Bukater estate.

Cal carlessly pushed the gate open, not bothering to lift. The chains clattered together as they came undone. The gate grinded against the path as he began up. He didn't even remember to close it after him. He walked up onto the porch and jiggled the doorknob. Locked. Cal pressed his head to the window and peered through. It was absolutely dark.

Cal hauled himself up onto the ledge of the porch and reached across for the window. Locked. He gave it a few curt jerks before he hopped down and rounded the house. He stepped up onto a small garden decoration and peered through the windows to see an empty guest room. Cal pushed the window and it slid up without any protest. Cal glanced around before he leapt and scrambled through the window. He thudded onto the floor loudly, bumping a table which wobbled back and forth. Cal sat up on his knees and looked around drunkenly. Nothing stirred. Cal stood and stretch, nearly winded from his hike and jump.

He walked into the hallway nonchalant, like he was supposed to be there. He looked up and down the dark hallways. He hated how much of a maze the house was like. Cal had always disliked their home. It was no where near as comfy as his. Cal went up the stairs at the end of the hallway remembering Rose's was tucked into the back. He saw her door, the last on the right. He paused at the top of the stairs and simply just stared at her door. He then crossed to it and let himself in. Cal closed the door behind him and flicked the nearby gas lamp on.

Rose's room was exactly how he had remembered it. He approached her bedside and ran his fingers over her white sheets. He then gripped the wood pillar, leading to the white sheer canopy raining down over her bed. Cal pressed his head to the cool wood and spied her small table. That's where she would have a snack and read a book, right in front of her large picture windows overlooking the garden. Cal walked to the double french doors leading out towards her small balcony. There was a white wicker chair and a parasol out there. Cal noticed a book on the ground, nearly completely under the chair. Cal opened the french door and stepped out into the cool still night. He crouched and grabbed the book, bringing it to his eyes.

_The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. _The front was colorful, full of all kinds of bright drawings.

"A children's book?" Cal mumbled, turning it around in his hands, "Why would Rose be reading fairytales?" Cal went back inside, kicking the door carelessly closed behind him. He was so drunk, he didn't care if Ruth found him lurking around in her house at one in the morning. Cal went to Rose's vanity. She had lots of jewlery atop it, still, despite what she had taken to Europe. Cal saw many things he had given to her, too.

He now went back to her bed and sat down on the side, hunching his shoulders. He let out a huff and looked to her nightstand. Cal opened the drawer and saw some bottles of her perfume. He opened it further to pull one out. He inhaled lightly. It smelled like heaven. It made him feel like heaven. It definitely reminded him of Rose. Cal was about to pull another bottle out, when he paused. Looking right back at him was a black leatherbound journal. Cal slid it out and opened it.

_It's Rose's diary, _Cal arched his eyebrows as he turned through a few pages. He stopped on an entry written just weeks before they departed for Europe, in September of 1911.

_The days grow closer at getting to leave for Europe. I've picked my wedding dress out and even my bridesmaids. My mother and I were able to agree on centerpieces, too. I feel like I should be the happiest girl alive. I don't feel sad by any means... simply confused. Left wondering. No one has ever asked me if this was what I wanted. Though, I suppose if they asked, I wouldn't know what to say. I really don't know what I want. I want to love Cal. I want to feel the way about him that people on the outside think I do. And yet... I feel nothing. I feel so stagnant. And passive. I don't know what to do with myself. Now... or in the future. Is this really it for me? To become Rose Hockley? It's an unusual feeling... to crave the unknown. I've known nothing outside this little bubble my parents have keept me enclosed in. How could I want anything outside of the boundaries? What could I possibly know about any of it? I wouldn't know where to start. Something serious would have to happen, I think, to ever make me try to do something new. Someone would have to die or be seriously hurt. My mother would have to pass away. Cal would have to find someone better and leave me... but nothing is impossible. The future can change in an instant. I've seen it happen. Life is not gradual like season's changing. It's fast and unforgiving. And there's no undoing anything._

Cal gently ran his fingers over the pen-written passage. He felt the divets of where she had put a dent with the pressure of her handwriting. He sighed and closed the book, putting it back into the nightable. He began rounding the bed to go find Ruth, when something glinting on the other night table caught his attention. He paused and approached the table. It was a silver picture frame. Cal lifted the frame to his eyes. It was a picture of Cal and Rose. It was taken the spring of 1911, right after the announcement of their engagement. They were sitting in a garden. Rose was wearing a sparkling dress. He could remember it. Though the picture was black and white, he saw the vibrant buttercup yellow of that dress shimmering in the daylight. She had a leg crossed over the other, leaning towards Cal. Her slender fingers were enclosed in his, her left hand splayed forward to display the large engagement ring. Her red hair was pinned into a bun with some loose wisps framing her perfect face. Cal undid the back of the picture frame and removed the picture. He looked at it once more before he tucked it into his wallet.

Cal left Rose's room and went straight across the hallway, heading for the door on the opposite wall. He opened it slowly and peered in. It looked like an even grander bedroom. Cal fully stepped in now and closed the door. He walked at a slow pace, not familiar with his surroundings. An armchair suddenly brushed against the side of his thigh. He felt along it, continuing forward, when his shin collided with a low coffee table. It had vases on it that jumped when he hit the table. Cal cursed under his breath. A lamp turned on and Ruth was lifting herself from her bed. She hurriedly reached for her silk robe, holding a protective arm across her nightgowned body.

"Cal?!" She hissed, tying a knot off in her sash, "What the hell are you doing here?! How did you get in here?"

"Window," Cal shrugged, nonchalant.

"You reek of alcohol," Ruth said bitterly, "Are you here to mock me, too? You couldn't wait until after breakfast to be civilized about it. You got drunk and broke into my home because you were so excited, weren't you?"

"No, not at all," Cal shook his head, "I wanted to tell you... I want to bring Rose back."

"You... do?" Ruth asked slowly, "You disagree with your father?"

"I think the wedding should be put on the back burner," Cal said, jamming his hands into his pockets, "But... I love Rose. I care for her. She _is _worth it to me."

"I've seen proof of that, I suppose," Ruth nodded, pleased with his answer. Relief washed through her body, but she remained composed, "Though... I've noticed one small snag in your overall plan, Cal."

"Oh? What's that?" Cal arched his eyebrows, pretending he didn't see double of Ruth at the moment.

"You left Jack to be taken away to some hospital in New York... Rose seemed interested in working in the hospital setting..." Ruth said slowly, "You may have increased their chance of them meeting."

"Well, that's the deal," Cal told Ruth, "I will only bring Rose back and get her healthy for the wedding, only if she chooses to come willingly with me. I want a wife. Not a petulant woman who acts as if she's my prisoner. And you _must _understand my reasonings. I will not tolerate any push back, Ruth. The ball is in my court."

"You'd let her be with that rat?" Ruth asked, her eyes glinting in the low lighting of the bedroom.

"If that's what she wants, sure, whatever," Cal threw his hands up dismissively, "I'm not going to force anything. I'm a business man, Ruth. I determine what's worth my time."

"When will you leave?"

"Tomorrow evening," Cal replied.

"Good."

...

_New York City, New York_

"Rose?" Her eyes flew open upon her name being called. She was curled up in one of the chairs in the nurse's break room, a blanket over her shoulders. She nearly knocked her coffee over. She sat up straight, her face hot, as she saw Annette standing in the doorway for her shift, her purse still over her shoulder, "Did you sleep here?"

"I, uh... yes," Rose lowered her eyes out of embarassment.

"Don't you have somewhere to go?" Annette closed the door and put her purse on the table, then her hands on her hips, "Don't tell me you moved to New York with no idea of where'd you sleep?"

"I did, yes," Rose kept her head bowed. She almost felt like she was back in finishing school, being scolded by a nun for her unlady-like behavior.

"Rose, hun, that won't do."

"I'm not fired, am I?" Rose looked up with nearly watery eyes.

"What?! Of course not!" Annette cracked a grin now, "Why don't you come live with me for awhile? I have a warm place you can rest your head at night."

"Oh, Annette, that's so generous, but I would be such a bother," Rose shook her head.

"Well, too bad, I'm not takin' no for an answer," Annette rounded the table to put her purse in a cubby, "How'd the rounds go yesterday?"

"Very well, in my opinion," Rose sipped on her lukewarm coffee.

"I knew you'd do well. I think today we can split the rounds and go solo. Y'know, divide and conquer."

"Yes, that sounds good," Rose grinned at Annette. Annette grabbed a clipboard off the wall and sat down with Rose to divy up the list.

"I'll take Daisy," Annette laughed, "I want to see if she's come up with something better than calling me a broad. I'll take Louis and Lilliana. I'll do Mr. Peters and Mr. Gould. I can do Jack Dawson, too. I know he can be some of a special case."

"If you don't mind, I'd like Jack on my rounds," Rose said, "He has made great progress."

"Well, Rose, I'd say you have the magic..." Annette paused for a moment and sat up, looking straight at Rose. Her dark eyes darted between both of Rose's light ones before she gasped sharply, "Rose Dawson... Jack Dawson- you're the Rose he was feverently talking about!"

Rose laughed lightly behind her coffee.

"I can't believe it. Does that mean... you were on the _Titanic?_"

"I was," Rose said, lifting her eyes slowly, "I thought Jack had died."

"Rose, you have a lucky star shining above you, I'd say."

Rose thought to the blinking star she had seen her first night in New York City. It comforted her when she thought she was so small and meaningless. When she wanted nothing more than curl up in a ball and die, or dig her own grave, jump in, and bury herself. Rose grinned to Annette.

"I suppose I do."


	17. My Sweet Rose

Chapter Seventeen

_April 23rd, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose woke up to the smell of sausage and the sizzle of bacon. She sat up from where she had slept on the couch in Annette's one bedroom apartment. It was comfortable to Rose. She wished she could afford something similar for herself. She rubbed her eyes and gazed across the kitchen island at Annette, who was wearing a peach colored robe with her back to Rose as she worked over the stove. Rose set her stocking feet on the carpet and crossed to Annette.

"Hey, good morning," Rose said, sitting down at a barstool at the island. Annette looked over her shoulder with a big grin.

"Mornin', Rose. How did you sleep? Better than a park bench?"

"Oh, much," Rose laughed lightly, "I'm not sore, that's for sure."

"I want you to stay for as long as you need," Annette told her, pushing the bacon around on a cast iron pan, "I'm serious. Until Jack is back in good health. Until you two can get your bearings. I imagine you lost everything on the ship."

"Yeah," Rose cleared her throat, "What's in my duffel bag is all I have left."

"From this moment on, this is your home, too," Annette pointed a finger at her as she turned and divided the sausage, eggs, and bacon onto two plates.

"I can't thank you enough, Annette," Rose lowered her eyes, "I'll give you part of my check, I promise. I'll try to not intrude too much."

"Oh, Rose," Annette clucked, spearing a sausage on a fork, "As you can see, I live alone. I welcome the company. You're anything but a burden. And save your money. Put it towards something you can use."

Rose scraped some eggs onto her fork and grinned at her new friend, which Annette returned as usual.

"Eat up. We gotta get dressed and get a move on for work."

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

_You're an idiot. Even if you do get married, I don't think I can give someone as stupid as you full control of the business I so geniusly invented! What is wrong with you!? Don't you know I'm always right? Why do you defy me? My own flesh and blood! You should be worshipping me! You should be working your ass off right now to prove yourself to me! But no! You're off on some panty-raid! Don't be surprised if I don't care much to speak with you when you return. I'll need time. And proof._

Cal shook the angry words from his head as he sat on a bench at the train station, his one bag sat between his legs. He looked anxiously around the platform. Back to sqaure one with trust with his father. All for Rose. Cal sighed and rubbed his hands nervously together. _Please be worth it. Please, Rose, don't let me make a fool of myself. I need you. _He nervously twisted the watch on his wrist, _I let you run. I've given you time to clear your head. I feel I've given you the space you longed for. Please, let's just forget the past and continue on. For our own sakes, please, Rose. Something can be worked out. Just like in business, there's always a compromise, I promise, sweetpea. _

A train hooted in the distance as it came around a curve on the track, heading straight for the station. Cal took his final opportunity to light a cigarette before getting on the train. He fumbled with lighter and stood, pacing in front of his luggage. He stuck his cigarette between his lips and squinted as the shiney black train squealed into the port, smoke rising from the tracks.

_Rose, please be my wife. I don't want to give up on you. I want to prove every doubt wrong. In my mind and my father's. You have to see how willing I am to fight for this. That counts for something afterall, doesn't it? _Smoke trailed from Cal's nostrils as he lowered the cigarette and watched a small crowd line up to board the train, _I'm coming, Rose. Ready or not. Here I come._

...

_New York City, New York_

Rose knitted her eyebrow together as she read a thermometer. She then shook it, clucking her tongue, "You're still under ninety-five degrees," She said, crossing to a cabinet and pulling another woolen blanket down. She returned to the bed and began spreading it out, smoothing her hands over the creases. The curtains were drawn back on the windows and the orange sunset bled across the room. Jack sighed from where he was in bed.

"I really don't want anymore blankets," Jack said, but he smiled, "You're starting to crush me beneath the weight of them."

Rose grinned, her eyes on the blanket as she smoothed it out, "With a body temperature of ninety-two, you're certainly not going to get hot and start sweating."

"Yes, Nurse Dawson," Jack replied mockingly.

Rose giggled and sat on the edge of the bed, taking hold of his hand.

"You know, I never imagined this," Jack brushed his hair from his eyes, "Being on a doomed ship, meeting you... and now you're taking care of me. It's just bizarre, don't you think?"

"I suppose fate was sneaky, yes," Rose nodded.

"Rose, you gave up a lot," Jack tightened his grip on her hand, "You ran away from your old life. Now you're sleeping on friend's couches and getting thrown up and spit on every day in a hospital. I can hear the way the patients yell at the nurses around here. Are you happy?"

She lowered her eyes, her heart thudding in her chest. Rose felt her body quake. That's when she knew she had been right all along. She had followed her heart, listened to herself, and it had paid off. She had escaped from what she thought was the world's greatest con-artist and had found the man of her dreams. A man that was nothing but a fantasy destiny. She brought Jack's cool hand to her lips, gently kissing his knuckles.

"I am happy, Jack. I am so happy."

...

Jack had fallen asleep by the time Rose had finished her shift, so she decided to leave and head home. She pulled her duffel bag over her shoulder and closed the door to the break room after her. Her shoes squeaked on the freshly polished tile as she walked towards the entrance of the hospital. She noticed Annette was talking with the receptionist as she came around the corner into the front foyer and waiting area. Upon seeing Rose, Annette said goodbye and waved to Rose, approaching her.

"I didn't know you were still here," Rose said as the two women fell into step, coats on, as they exited the hospital.

"Got caught talking to people for awhile," Annette chuckled, "Part of the job. Hey, it's not even eight yet. What do you say we go to a nearby restaraunt and get a beer?"

"Sure," Rose shrugged, "Couldn't hurt."

"We'll still be bright eyed and bushy tailed for work tomorrow," Annette laughed, linking her arm through Rose's.

The diner Annette had in mind was not far from the hospital and was already in the direction of Annette's apartment. The two women seated themselves at the end of the bar and ordered two beers. Rose turned the beer in her hand. The last time she had drank had been at the steerage party. Before that, she had only ever had fruity cocktails with barely any trace of alcohol in them. Rose had decided she liked beer much more. She liked the way it made her feel. Rose took a small sip, hearing the thud of the band on the _Titanic _that night echo through her mind.

"Okay, I have a question," Annette said, lowering the beer from her lips. Rose simply nodded at her, "I know it's wrong to snoop, but I just couldn't help myself. Is Jack really your husband?"

Rose stared at the label on her sweaty beer for a moment before lifting her eyes, "No. He's not."

"Then... what is he to you? Why do you two share a name?"

"I took his name after I thought he had died," Rose replied, very slowly, "He means a great deal to me. And when I thought... when I thought I had lost him, I decided to change my name and my entire life."

"From what I've seen of you two, it's almost like you've known each other your entire lives," Annette said, "But now I'm beginning to suspect that's not the case."

"You're right," Rose kept her eyes lowered now. She sipped her beer, "There's an entire past behind me I don't want to think about anymore. I don't want to live it again. I never want to return to it."

"I know you come from a wealthy background," Annette told her, "I've seen your dresses. The way you carry yourself. The only things you're missing are fine jewels and diamond hair clips."

"Do you think less of me because of that?" Rose looked to her.

"Oh gosh, of course not, Rose," Annette pressed her hand to her arm warmly. Rose welcomed the friendly contact, "I'm not entirely sure what you've been through, but I certainly won't hold anything against you. It's just not every day a runaway elite woman shows up with nothing but three dresses asking for a job. In fact... it's something I admire about you."

"Really?" Rose's eyebrows arched. Annette had two more beers delivered to them.

"Yeah!" Annette grinned as she took another long gulp of her drink, "Just think about it, Rose. You lived a very comfy life. You probably wore dresses that cost more than what I make in an entire year. I imagine you've been to the classiest parties and the most well thought out estates. But you didn't give a damn about it any of it. It's not what you wanted. So you left. And for that, I admire you. Your character. You're more than what meets the eye."

Rose smiled and glanced around the diner. Not many people lingered as the clock grew close to ten. Rose drank her beer and looked to Annette, "I think you deserve the full story, if you want to hear it," Annette nodded eagerly, "It all began in 1891, when my father, John DeWitt Bukater started the DeWitt Bukater Salt Mine Corporation. Upon finding his wealth, he was promised a woman named Ruth Elder, a wealthy woman from Pittsburgh. These would be my parents..."

...

_Under the full moon yet again... _Cal sighed, hunching forward on a bench. He was in the same park Rose had made her startling confession to him. Her words haunted his mind. Cal reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet, then pulled out the picture he had taken from Rose's bedroom. He reached out and gently caressed his hand over Rose's face. He looked at her smile, analyzing every detail of her face, _Was she really happy then? Was she ever excited to be with me? _Cal sighed and sat back, looking through the canopy of trees towards the moon that was high in the sky, _I need a time machine. If I could just go back and change everything about myself, I would. I'm such a damned fool. I used to think I was so smart and coy but... _He shook his head, clenching his teeth together, _Why does it take a damned ship sinking to make me realize what I had? Am I really that thick-headed?_

Cal brought the picture to his eyes again, _My father thinks I could have any girl in the world, Rose. But... I only want you. There's no one in this world for me but you. Where did everything go wrong? Please, just tell me, so I can fix it. I'd do anything to have you back. Nothing is too much, I swear. I don't think I could return to Philidelphia and sit at a desk, knowing you're not going to be waiting for me when I get home. I'd never get any work done again if you weren't in my life. I'd spend the rest of my waking moments thinking about you... wondering where you were, what you were doing, who you were talking to. Please, my sweet Rose... please, take mercy on this damned fool._


	18. Confessions

Chapter Eighteen

_April 24th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

When Jack opened his eyes, he noticed the sun was breaking over the city from his window. He felt so stiff and numb in his bed. And even cold. He pulled one of his many blankets up over his shoulders and readjusted himself on the mattress. His back was beginning to hurt. He more than anything wanted to get up and walk around, get the blood flowing, his muscles stretching. Jack let out a wide yawn and shook his head. Rose wouldn't let him out of the bed until he reached a normal body temperature. He hoped today was that day. Jack hated more than anything being sick. He hated lying in bed. He remembered in his childhood sneaking out his window to climb trees and skip rocks on the creek running behind his house, despite having a flaring temperature. He was a creature of movement. He did not take kindly to being restrained to bed.

He cocked his head to the side and that's when he noticed Rose was sitting in a chair against the wall, writing on a chart, "Hey," He said, with a scratchy voice, husky with sleep. Rose lifted her head now and he felt himself melt when he saw her green eyes. They were so warm and welcoming. It was almost like he was standing in a large field with nothing but her surrounding him. But he noticed there was something in her eyes. Something that was bothering her, "Are you alright?"

Rose cracked a grin and stood, coming to his bedside, "I'm supposed to be asking you that question."

Jack arranged himself to face Rose now, lowering his blanket despite his chill. Rose noticed, however, and quickly pulled the blanket up on him, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rose told him.

"Rose," Jack shot her look, "I can read you like a book."

Rose smiled despite the tension in her body. How much she had grown to love this man was nearly unbelievable to her. But this only convinced her more. Here he was, laid up in bed, recovering from severe hypothermia, and he was asking _her _what was wrong. And they said chilvary was dead. She let out a sigh, "It's stupid."

"Nothing you say is stupid," Jack reached for her hand and gently carressed his thumb over the top of it. She was so soft. It was enough to make Jack start quivering in bed again.

"It's just..." Rose shook her head and looked out the window for a moment before she finally gazed back into his eyes. Despite his sleeping, he still looked so very exhausted. She bit down on her lip for a moment and sighed all over again, "Today was supposed to be the day I married Cal. It bothers me more than it should. I can just imagine my dress, the chapel we're supposed to be married in... It's all in Philidelphia waiting for me, almost like a death sentence."

"It's all behind you now," Jack told her gently, "You don't have to go back. You don't want to, right?"

"No, of course not," Rose's voice was strong, "I don't want any of that. I just want to be here... with you. I just feel so stupid."

"Rose," Jack said, but she shook her head.

"I ran away from all of it, only to let it haunt me. I don't want Cal to have this kind of power over me. When will it stop bothering me?"

Jack opened his arms. Rose sat on the edge of his bed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face to his cool cheek. Jack gently combed his fingers through her soft curls. He had dreamt of this when he was in a deep sleep. All he had imagined was Rose in his arms and now, in waking life, she was here and he felt so complete. He wanted nothing more than to protect her from her demons. He wanted her to have the life she always dreamed of.

"It's all still fresh," Jack told her, quietly whispering into her ear. His breath made goosebumps pucker across her skin, "Getting over it takes time. It's like having a scar. At first, it does nothing but hurt. Maybe even bleed. It leaves a nasty scab for awhile, too. But slowly, it heals, and it stops bothering you. Eventually, you don't even think about it. It becomes the color of your skin. Something you may never even catch when glancing over yourself. It's a healing process. And you can't rush anything."

Rose sighed into the crook of his neck, nearly shaking in his arms. There was his wisdom again. Rose had had everything in the world and yet, she could never be as wise as Jack. She held onto him tighter, never wanting to let go, "I'm so glad you're alive, Jack. I don't know where I'd be if you had died," She sat up, pressing her hands to his chest.

"You'd be here, being a nurse, right?" Jack said, arching his eyebrows, "Rose, you did all of this... escaped from your old life and got a job... without even knowing I was alive. You're stronger than you think you are. You didn't need me to do this."

"I can't wait for you to get better," Rose told him, tears now welling up in her eyes, "There's so much we can do together. So much to see. We can go anywhere. I can be a nurse anywhere. We can... have a life together," She gripped his hands, gently kissing his fingertips. Jack felt his body warm at the feel of her lips, "I want to officially be Rose Dawson."

Jack smiled at her, "How did I get to be the luckiest bastard alive?"

"I think I'm the lucky one."

...

Cal was supposed to be searching every hospital in New York for Rose, but instead, he found himself at a dimly lit bar. He sat at the end, all by his lonesome, several empty beers splayed around him. He was leaned up against his elbow, his mind swimming. The picture of him and Rose was lying on the counter and his eyes were glued only to that. He didn't look up when anybody entered. He didn't even glance at the bartender as he kept the alcohol coming.

_Look at me... the most pathetic fool in the world, _Cal thought sourly, _She's out there, maybe only miles away, and I can't even pull myself together. I came here on a whim. Completely unprepared. What can I even say to her to make her come home with me? Who was I to tell Ruth I wouldn't force a thing? There's nothing I can say to change her mind, I know it. I can't accept no for an answer, but every speech I've come up with only leads back to that same word. No. I'm starting to feel like I have no other option but to force this._

He let out a long sigh and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a wink last night. Cal glanced around the bar for the first time. It was nearly desserted since it was the middle of the day. There were few stragglers. Cal raised his hand for another beer and nearly downed half of it in one gulp. He lifted the picture up, catching a ray of light from a nearby window. It completely illuminated Rose's face, _I've put many puzzles together in my life. It was one of my mother's favorite past times when I was a child. I know that when a piece did not fit, you couldn't force it. But you, Rose... I swear you're my piece. I feel like you could fit with me perfectly. I'll turn the piece any which way to be sure it fits. It has to. There's no other pieces left._

"Hey, are you alright?" The bartender asked. He was shining a glass nearby, eyeing Cal tenatively. Cal was certainly an unexpected midday customer. He looked so sharp and dapper. The bartender supposed he was very important. That he should have been leading a business meeting and saving the day.

"Fine," Cal replied gruffly, lowering the picture.

"Buddy, I've been a bartender for years. I can read my customers like a book. You've drank nearly eight beers in an hour and have been staring at a picture the whole time," The bartender came to stand in front of him, popping a cap off a fresh bottle for him, "I know that look of a man. You're pining over a sweetheart."

"And what if I am?" Cal rubbed his face exasperatedly.

The bartender reached forward and took the picture, examining it himself. He let out a low whistle, "Well, ain't that the prettiest sweetheart I've seen a man cry over. I'd be crying, too."

"Her name is Rose," Cal now said.

"Rose, eh? She sure looks as fragile as one," The bartender returned the picture, "You seem to be a well put-together man. What's the trouble? Can't afford her a new pearl necklace?"

Cal grounded his teeth together for a moment, "It's the opposite problem. She doesn't want a thing from me."

"Ah, gettin' the cold shoulder?"

Cal finished his beer and grabbed the fresh one the bartender had brought, "Something like that."

"Well, why are you here drowning yourself?" The bartender asked, knitting his bold brows together, "There's a little saying a lot of us men live by: When you want something, fight for it."

"Fight for it, hm?" Cal echoed, keeping his eyes lowered.

"Yeah, you gotta do whatever it takes to make her yours, y'know?" The bartender shrugged, "With a lady like that, I'd kill a man to have her."

Cal lifted his eyes to look at the bartender now.

"I'm just sayin'," The bartender told him.

"No," Cal took a drink, nodding his head, "You're right."

...

Rose walked stiffly back to the break room. She opened the door and nearly waddled through, immediately kicking her shoes off. Annette was at the counter making herself a cup of coffee and turned to see who was there. When she saw Rose heading for the utility closet, she nearly broke into a laugh.

"Ah, it happened!" Annette shouted with a smile, "Someone threw up on you!"

"I think we gave them too much medicine," Rose said, grabbing a new uniform.

"Now you're really a nurse! Let me make you a cup of coffee," Annette returned to the counter. Rose could hear the clatter of mugs as she prepared a new cup, "How do you take it?"

"Black," Rose unbuttoned her uniform and threw it in the hamper, then buttoned a new one up. She sat down and kicked her squishy shoes off and unrolled her stockings.

"Black? Wow," Annette whistled, shaking her hips with energy as she continued on.

"I like to taste the coffee," Rose said, tossing the stockings in the hamper and grabbing new ones, "Do we have extra shoes?"

"Yeah, bottom shelf," Annette replied without even looking.

Rose was nearly finished changing when Annette brought her a piping hot mug of coffee to the table. Rose whisked some hair from her face and let out a sigh, holding the warm beverage close and relishing in it. Annette was seated across from her, drinking her own coffee, which was full of nearly five sugar packets.

"What a day," Rose rubbed her face.

"The joys of being a nurse," Annette laughed, "How's Jack doing?"

"Oh, so much better," Rose said, feeling her heart lift at the mention of his name, "I think I'm going to take him for a walk around the hospital garden tomorrow. He is getting antsy."

"I wanted to tell you, I'm having dinner with someone tonight," Annette said, "So, you'll be alone for a good chunk of the evening. Help yourself to anything in the ice box. Listen to the radio. Do whatever. I'll be home before midnight."

"Dinner? With who?" Rose grinned at her friend, "A beau?"

Annette felt her cheeks grow rosy, "No. Not a beau."

"Then who?"

"A friend," Annette said again.

"Okay, then," Rose smiled as she drank some of her coffee.

Annette bobbed her knee for a moment, "I have to tell you my secret. I think I can trust you."

"Secret?" Rose echoed.

Annette glanced towards the break room door for a moment and lowered her eyes, "I've never told anybody. Not my family. Not even some of my closest friends. I feel like I have to say it to someone and I know you have an open mind," Rose watched Annette stir her coffee to delay her just a moment more before she sighed, "Rose... I..." She shook her head, "Damn, this is hard. I've never said it out loud to anyone."

"What is it, Annette?" Rose asked, becoming genuinely worried.

"I... well," Annette's face flushed and she picked at her nail for a moment, "Rose, I... I like girls."

"You like girls? Romantically?" Rose arched her eyebrows.

"Yes," Annette looked at her, nearly terrified of her reaction, "I never could tell my parents. We were poor and I was never going to marry a good man, anyway, but that didn't stop my mom from introducing me to all the boys in our neighborhood. I've never had any interest in them, however. For some odd reason, I've just always liked girls. I know, in a way, it's wrong-"

"Annette," Rose reached across the table, placing her hand on her wrist, "it's OK. It's not wrong, at all. It's just the way you are."

Annette stared deeply into Rose's eyes before she sighed all over again, "You're okay with that? It doesn't weird you out? You don't think I'm some creepy person now, do you?"

"Of course not. Annette, you're my friend. And my own personal hero," Rose gently rubbed her wrist, "I would never think any less of you for what you prefer. I can understand why you're so scared, though. People are very close-minded about that kind of thing. I've read the papers."

"It's awful what they think," Annette said, shaking her head, "They make us sound like freaks. Like perverts. But... I just can't help it. It's the way I've always been. Those stories I've read, too, make me feel like I'm broken, in a way."

"You're not broken," Rose took a drink of coffee, "I support you, Annette. Just like you always have with me."

Annette smiled now and lowered her eyes, "That felt good to get off my chest. Thank you, Rose."

"Now... this dinner," Rose said, "What are you wearing?"

Annette broke into a laugh now, "Let's finish our rounds and go home. You can help me dress."


	19. The Private Investigator

Chapter Nineteen

_April 24th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Cal exited the North New York Hospital nearly in defeat. He had gone to two other hospitals inquiring about either a Nurse Rose Dawson or a Nurse Rose DeWitt Bukater. He was still drunk from his drinking binge earlier and was so irritated by his failure, he nearly wanted to stop for a few more beers. But he decided to keep going. The sun was beginning to set. If he hadn't found her by nightfall, then, he decided, he would drink. But right now, he continued as a private investigator.

Cal's leather sole shoes clacked down the sidewalk as he headed for the central part of New York. He figured maybe he should search around the area of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. He had a hunch that maybe Rose was staying in an area she was familiar with. For the time being, he had no confrontation planned. He simply wanted to watch her. He wanted to see where she worked and where she stayed. Cal thought he could use those pieces of information to his gain.

He withdrew a cigarette as he crossed the street with a crowd of people. Many were just getting off work. They were letting their ties loose, smoking cigarettes, their jackets thrown over their shoulders. Cal nearly blended in with the crowd as he made it to the other side. He continued for a few more blocks, glancing up at the orange and pink sky. The faintest stars were beginning to break through the sunshine. Smoke trailed from his mouth as he rounded a corner to see the Central New York Hospital glowing, lights on in every room. Cal seated himself on a bench to finish his cigarette, bobbing his knee.

_She's probably already off work, _Cal thought, _Another wasted day. Right now, Rose and I were supposed to be having a grand reception. We were supposed to be cutting cake, feeding it to each other, dancing, showing off our love. And yet, here I am, in dirty New York City, trying to find out where she works. Feh... what a twist in events._

He tapped the ash off his cigarette and watched a man and a very pregnant woman leave the hospital together, laughing and talking as they disappeared out of sight around the corner of a tall building. A bicycle raced by, the rider ringing the bell, as he entered the intersection and turned, also disappearing from sight. Cal could hear the distant noise of laughter. He turned his head to watch a group of people exit a pub at the end of the street corner. Cal took another drag of his cigarette, shaking his head.

He heard the hospital doors opened again and faint voices reached his ears. Cal turned his head and felt his heart nearly pound to a stop. There she was. Cal was frozen to the bench, gazing across the street. Rose had her red hair pulled back from her face. He analyzed every detail of her uniform. A white button up dress, white stockings, and white shoes. She truly did look like a nurse. She was walking with someone else. A woman with dirty blonde hair that was whisked back in a bun. She was also wearing a matching uniform. The women were having a very good conversation as they stepped out on the street and began walking.

Cal stomped his cigarette out and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. This was the moment. Now, he knew Rose worked at the Central New York Hospital. He stood, casually putting his hands in his pockets, and jaunted to the street corner. He peered around a building to see the back of Rose and her companion, still just walking and talking, oblivious to everything around them.

_Who is she? _Cal thought as he watched the women cross the street. He now began walking down the street, keeping his head low, _They talk like they've been best friends forever. Look how easily that woman gets Rose to speak to her. Everything I've ever said to her is only met with grunts or one-worded responses. How can this woman so easily illicit Rose's trust? _The women took a turn around a building out of sight. Cal glanced over his shoulder before he raced across the desserted street to the side they were just on. He poked his head around the building to see them standing on a street corner, talking very animatedly. They were heading north.

They were given the indicator to walk so they crossed, all by their lonesome. There were very few people now as the city grew dark and the street lights lit up, casting a lemony glare down onto the sidewalks. Cal quickly rounded the corner and watched the women walk further up the next street block. Impatiently, he jay-walked again, getting a curt honk. He cursed under his breath and went to stand at the next city block. The women, however, were paying him no mind. Cal leaned against a cool brick building, desperately wanting another cigarette. He continued into a shadow of a building. Rose and her friend were only a few feet ahead now and some words made it to his ears.

"... I think you should wear something blue," Rose was saying, "With your blonde hair, it will really make you pop. I wear green when I want to get the same affect."

"Oh, I have something blue," The blonde woman said, nodding in response.

Finally, the women paused at the next street block. The area had become more residential with apartments and boarding houses. Cal stopped, watching the women intensely. The blonde haired woman fished into her purse and he heard the jangle of keys. They walked up a short staircase and entered the first door on the left that overlooked the intersection. Once they had disappeared inside, Cal darted across the street. He quickly memorized the street address and then squinted upwards through the night to see the apartment number. _201._

...

Rose closed the apartment door behind them and both the women sighed in relief at finally being home. Rose tossed her duffel bag on the couch, where her quilts and pillows lay neatly folded. Annette threw her purse onto the kitchen island and unpinned her hair, letting it fall down her shoulders. Rose watched her run her fingers through it.

"You should keep your hair down," Rose said, crossing to her and fluffing it a bit, "It's so beautiful. You have a lovely wave to it."

"Really?" Annette raised her eyebrows, "I always wear it up."

"Take a chance!" Rose grinned, "I'll even do your make up."

"I actually don't have any," Annette told her.

"Oh, hold on," Rose crossed to her duffel bag and began rustling around for the stolen make up from the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. The bag was precariously dangling on the side of the couch as she reached along the side of it and withdrew a few cosmetic things. She was beginning to turn to Annette when the bag spilled over, dumping all the contents onto the floor, "Oops," Rose said, kneeling.

"What in the world is that?!" Annette gasped, coming to the floor now as well. Rose looked up from grabbing a dress to see Annette reaching for the Heart of the Ocean that was glinting in the light from the ceiling. Annette grabbed the heavy cool jewel and placed it face up in her palm, "This thing is huge! What is this?"

"Oh," Rose's cheeks began to burn, "That... was a gift. From my ex-fiancé."

"That Cal-guy?" Annette turned the jewel in her hand, "God, look at this thing! It's massive. How could anybody wear this around their neck?!"

"I know, I hate it," Rose said, folding her dresses up, "I've only worn it twice. They call it the Heart of the Ocean. It's a very rare diamond. I'm sure he spent a fortune on it. I was considering selling it. I'm sure it would give me a little nest egg."

"I know you probably associate it with bad memories," Annette looked up at Rose, "But it's goregous and rare. Maybe you should just hold on to it."

"Well, that may be a couple months rent at my own apartment," Rose grinned, "I figured you probably don't want me staying here forever."

"I wouldn't care if we stayed here until the end of time together," Annette told her. She reached across and gave Rose's wrist a squeeze, "I've never found such a genuine friendship before, Rose. I really like you. And I love having you here."

"Thank you," Rose said, looking at her, too, "I feel the same way, Annette."

Annette smiled and leaned towards Rose, gently kissing her on the cheek. Rose grinned, not at all bothered by the contact, "Let's get you done-up for your date. We don't want you to be late."

...

Cal was sitting on a bench diagonal from the apartment complex he had seen Rose and her friend enter. He was on his second cigarette. He was deciding what to do next. He just couldn't make his mind up. He was in the mood to drink himself into a slump. He almost wanted to just go back home. He sighed and rubbed his face. Cal stood and flicked his cigarette into the gutter and withdrew another, resigned to finding the nearest pub.

He heard the creak of a door, however, and some voices travel across the quiet night. Cal looked over his shoulder, pausing from lighting his cigarette. The apartment Rose had gone into had the front door open now. He squinted to see Rose was standing in the doorway speaking with blonde woman. Her friend's hair was down. It was finely brushed and was very glossy in the street lights. She was wearing a long velvet blue dress that had light blue tulle sleeves that frilled at her wrists. Her purse was over her shoulder. The two spoke for a few moments more before they exchanged hugs. The woman began down the stairs. Rose watched her her go down before she went back inside.

Cal watched intently as the woman went down the stairs and made a sharp turn, disappearing around the corner. Cal finished lighting his cigarette and walked slowly into the street, staring up at the front facing window of the apartment. He saw the light shimmering behind the curtains and then Rose's sillouette passing by momentarily. Cal lowered his cigarette, smoke trailing from his mouth. He didn't care if a car came. In fact, he wouldn't even care if he got run over. He watched the window for a moment more, but Rose did not cross again.

Slowly, Cal turned around and began walking away. He really needed a beer.

...

Rose flicked the radio on the kitchen island to a jazz station. A trumpet gently crooned into the air as she grabbed Annette's pack of cigarettes off her nighttable. Rose was wearing a pale pink nightgown and a black silk robe. She ruffled her curls as she went back to the island and seated herself, lighting a cigarette. She hadn't had one in over a week and craved one deeply, especially after being on her feet all day.

Rose cradled her head in her hand as she took a long satisfying drag. She held it in for just a moment before she released slowly. The smoke swirled around the kitchen lamp dangling lowly to the island. She felt the jazz music taking her away. Rose closed her eyes, listening to the passionate music, as she held the cigarette between her lips.

Her mind wandered to Jack. He was probably fast asleep, tucked beneath his six woolen blankets. She imagined, in that moment, that he was there with her. He would be smoking a cigarette, a big grin on his face. They would be chatting up a storm and laughing even harder. Rose smiled, her eyes still closed, as she saw her and Jack dancing to the music in the living room, having the time of their life. How dearly she craved to have him there in that moment.

Rose opened her eyes, blinking rapidly and coming back to earth. Back to the small one bedroom apartment where she sat by herself. She lowered her cigarette, exhaling and sending smoke around the radio. She looked around Annette's apartment and smiled to herself.

_This is home._


	20. Until the End of Time

Chapter Twenty

_April 25th, 1912_  
_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

The bedroom door eased open and light from the hallway spilled across the dark room. Ruth was lying in bed, her face buried deep into her pillow. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing in particular. Occasionally, her eyes followed the grain of the wood on the wall, sometimes they darted towards the window, where slivers of light threatened to come through.

"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater?" There were thuds on her carpets as the maid continued further into the room, not even bothering to close the door behind her, "Madam, are you awake?"

"What do you need?" Ruth said with absolutely no emotion. She sounded almost like a robot.

"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, would you like some breakfast brought to your room? Maybe some tea? I... I was worried when you didn't get up this morning," The maid came to the end of her bed. She was a young brunette woman with big green eyes surrounded by thick lashes. She was barely any older than Rose, from a poor family, and had been hired as help just before they had departed for Europe last year. She was a rather nervous young girl and it showed as she looked over Ruth, who had now been laid up in bed for nearly sixteen hours.

"I'm not hungry," Ruth said like a robot.

"Ma'am, you barely even touched your dinner last night."

"I wasn't hungry then, either," Ruth kept her eyes trained on the wall.

"Okay..." The maid said slowly, "Can I bring you anything? Some water? Do you need any medicine? Maybe a book or a magazine?"

"No."

"What do you want, then, Ma'am? I couldn't possibly just leave you unattended to."

Ruth lifted her head, her hair completely dishevelled and piled atop her head in a sloppy bun, "Has anyone called for me?"

"No, Ma'am, no messages," The maid shook her head. Ruth sighed and put her head back down.

"Please, leave me alone... be gone."

"Yes, Ma'am," The maid curtesied and left the room hurriedly, as if Ruth's depression was a black hole that was simply going to suck her in. The door shut behind her and Ruth sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. She gripped her silky pillow in her hand.

_Rose, where are you?! I should have heard from Cal by now. Unless... _She slowly opened her eyes as hot tears sprang up and began running across her face, _his attempts were futile. He's a businessman, dammit. And knowing her, she's wasting his time. Rose, you damned fool._

...

_New York City, New York_

Rose peaked her head through the door to see Jack was awake and looking around for anything to entertain him. When he saw the flash of red, his eyes instantly lit up and he sat forward very eagerly. Rose came into the room fully, smiling like a fool herself. She came across the room and they locked lips.

"Hey, good morning," Jack said, holding onto her arms, "I was just beginning to wonder when you'd come."

"Sorry. One of my patients has a nasty infection in the stitches on his arm," Rose laughed, grabbing his clipboard and checking some information. Jack watched as she crossed the room and dug through a drawer, withdrawing a thermometer, "You know the drill."

"I'm feelin' lucky," Jack told her with his boyish grin. He was beginning to look much better, Rose observed. His skin was not at all ghostly anymore, but rather had a peachy look to it. Even his cheeks had color in them. The purple rings around his eyes were fading rapidly after every nap and full nights sleep. His lips were pink and his eyes were no longer bloodshot. Rose popped the thermometer in his mouth and sat on the edge of the bed, writing down her observations in his chart, which she carefully and thoroughly thought out. Jack watched her gracefully write in her dainty handwriting. He then tried to eye the thermometer in his mouth, but he went cross-eyed doing it, making Rose burst out into a laugh.

"Stop that, you'll get them stuck," She gave him a playful shove.

"Dats ah ol' wives tale," Jack said behind the thermometer.

"Who's the medical professional here," Rose replied mockingly. He gave her a sheepish grin. Rose reached forward and pulled the thermometer from his mouth. She held it up, squinting, to get an accurate reading, "Ninety-four degrees! Jack, you're almost back to a good temperature!"

"Almost," He groaned, falling back into his pillows.

"Well, hey, this is good news," Rose santized the thermometer and put it away, then hung his clipboard back on the wall, "That temperature means I can take you for a walk around the hospital!"

"Really," Jack grinned, "Thank God. I'm _so _damn tired laying here. Especially knowing you're running around working hard."

"Come on, let's get you up," Rose began pulling the blankets back, nearly as excited as Jack. Jack swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He wobbled, however, and windmilled his arms. Rose wrapped her arms around his midriff to steady him, but he fell back onto the bed.

"Oh, dammit, come on," Jack shook his head, "There's no way I can't do this."

"It may take a few times," Rose said, patiently, "I had the same problems after I woke up."

"How bad were you?" Jack seemed hurt to hear this.

"No where near as bad as you," Rose quickly replied, "I woke up before we even got rescued."

"You have a lot to tell me," Jack sighed. He stood again, this time a bit more successful. He took a few steps, but then leaned against the wall.

"Do you want me to get you a wheelchair?" Rose suggested.

"Absolutely not," Jack knitted his eyebrows together, "I can do this."

"Okay," Rose grinned and laced her fingers through his, "Let's go outside, to the garden."

...

Cal sat at the foot of his bed in his hotel room, bobbing his knee anxiously. He had gotten less than four hours of sleep and woke up still drunk. He was thirsty for more. Cal slowly felt himself slipping out of reality. He mind felt so frenzied. He felt terrible, but he was not motivated to take care of himself. He simply wanted to drink like a fish and smoke like a fire. And he had relapsed on his favorite thing of the past. The night before, a man at the bar had offered him some cocaine and Cal was never one to decline, especially in his current mental state. It sat on his nighttable, baiting him for another bump. He rubbed his face, bobbing both his knees now. He had been clean for over a year. He had promised to quit for his father and get his act together. But now, Cal felt nothing mattered. He didn't care about anything in his own personal life. He was only fixated on Rose.

She haunted his mind endlessly. He would see her face even at the slightest blink of the eye. Cal ground his teeth together and stood, going to the nighttable. He lined the hit up and snorted it. His face began to burn. He held the bridge of his nose, clenching every muscle in his body. He let out a snarl and turned to look towards the window at New York City. His hands were shaking, his legs moving, though he stood in place. Cal turned to his bag on the empty guest bed. Slowly, he unzipped it and stared at the contents. Sitting on top was a shiny little gun, the same one that had been aboard the _Titanic _with him. He grabbed it, the coolness of the metal seeping into his palm. He pushed the chamber out to see all five bullets carefully loaded. He snapped the chamber shut and admired it with his bloodshot eyes.

Slowly, he brought the gun to his temple. He held it there for a moment before he broke into a hideous laugh, lowering it to his side. He did one more bump of his treat and then tucked the gun into his waistband carelessly. He glanced around the room once more before his energized legs lead him out of the room and on his way. Cal grinned as he piled down the stairs and casually walked out of the front foyer. The sun was bright, nearly making him cringe. He felt his head throb slightly, but he didn't care. He walked on, feeling like the most powerful man in the world.

He felt nothing could stop him.

...

"... the ship split in half," Rose was saying. She had her hand pressed to the small of Jack's back as they strolled between tall hedges blooming with glorious white daises. Their steps were slow and calculated, Jack's muscles stiff and unwilling to bend how he asked, "We were on the top part, and God," She shook her head, "it felt like a carnival ride when we fell."

"I... I can't believe I don't remember any of this," Jack knit his eyebrows together, "Can we stop for a moment?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Rose helped lower Jack to a concrete half-wall. He let out a long sigh, as if he was winded from the physical activity.

"I was with you the whole time?" Jack's face was tinged slightly red from the walk. She could tell his hypothermia was still rearing an ugly head on him.

"You're the only one who was keeping me alive," Rose said, standing before him, "I would have been trampled to death."

"There's only one thing I remember... or at least, I think it happened," Jack tapped his finger to his chin for a moment, "I remember you... jumping off of a lifeboat. Back onto a sinking ship."

Rose felt her cheeks heat up at the mention, "Yes... that happened."

"You know, I really can't believe you," Jack looked up at her, squinting his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Jack brought himself to his feet and steadied himself. Rose titled her head back to watch his face as he towered a good amount over her, "You left behind the comfiest life," He shook his head and walked a few steps, "You were practically a princess for God's sake. You're the most beautiful woman to walk this planet. You had everything you could ever dream of. And yet..." He turned to her, raking his blond hair from his face, "You threw it all away to be with someone like me."

"You and I both know it wasn't all sunshine and flowers," Rose said, clasping her hands together to force herself not to fidget, "You said it yourself. My fire was going to burn out. Meeting you made something snap inside of me. I don't know quite what it was, maybe I realized how truly fed up I was," Rose shrugged and took a few steps herself, "But you, Jack, showed me there was more to life than what I was passively dealing with. You showed me all the things I couldn't have, and... like you said, I'm a spoiled brat. I want things that others have."

Jack cracked a grin and glanced down for a moment.

"When I first saw you on the deck," Rose continued, "I knew there was something different about you. Even far away, nearly a whole level beneath me, I could see your eyes."

"Oh yeah?" Jack cocked a bold brow up and nodded his head at her, "What'd you see?"

"I saw someone who wasn't looking at me in a demeaning manner. You weren't undressing me with your eyes or looking down on me for being pampered and well-taken care of," Rose shook her head, a loose wisp from her bun falling along her cheek, "You were just... looking at me. Observing me. It was the first time in my life that a man had looked at me and I hadn't been frightened," Rose approached Jack, clutching his shirt between her fingers. She was whispering now, "And why in the world, Jack, would I dare to let that pass me by?"

Jack brought his hands up to rest on either side of her face, "Do you think I could make you happy?"

"Yes," Rose insisted, gripping his wrists, "I know you can."

Jack dipped his head down and pressed his lips to Rose's. It was gentle at first and then came the onset of urgency. He wrapped his arms around her slim body now, crushing her against him. She held onto the collar of his shirt as their lips met over and over again. Jack pressed his palms flat to the small of her back. Their lips felt so right together. It was if their bodies were molded to fit perfectly together. They parted and drew in deep breaths, gazing into each other's eyes.

"I'll do anything in the world to make you happy, Rose," Jack said, still holding onto her, "I will move mountains. I will swim to the bottom of the ocean. There is nothing or no one that will ever keep you from me. It's my promise to you: I am yours."

"I will be yours until the end of time," Rose whispered before she crushed her lips against his.


	21. Old Habits

Chapter Twenty-One

_April 25th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Jack and Rose now took a slow walk through the hospital. The cool air of the fans helped give Jack the energy to walk further and longer. Rose held a cane in her hand, twirling it back and forth as her and Jack took small steps. Jack refused to use the cane, but as Rose watched the fatigue set in, she was certain he was going to cave. They walked past the receptionist who passed on encouraging words. The brilliant sunlight of the cloudless afternoon poured through into the waiting area. Jack and Rose began back up the main hallway, which was wide and lined with many benches.

"I'm gonna sit down," Jack said, already crossing to a vacant bench. He sank into the wood and hunched his shoulders, "I wish I had more energy, I'm sorry."

"You're doing great," Rose told him with an optimistic grin, "Only four days after waking up from a coma, you're walking on your own! And we've been walking around for nearly an hour and a half now. I'd say you have more energy than I was expecting."

Jack grinned at her through his bangs. Rose was about to open her mouth when her name echoed down the hallway. The couple turned their heads to see Annette approaching. She had a clipboard tucked under her arm as she joined the two.

"So, this is him?" Annette asked, smiling at Jack.

"Oh, yes," Rose looked between the two, "Jack, this is my friend, Annette. She's letting me stay at her apartment for the time being."

"Hello," Jack extended his hand out, "You're the hero I've heard about it."

"Ah, it's nothing," Annette shook his hand firmly, "What's not to love about Rose?"

"Oh, I agree," Jack nodded.

"You probably don't remember me," Annette giggled, "But I was the first nurse you saw when you woke up. You thought I was Rose."

Jack's cheeks turned red at this thought, "You must also be the nurse I threw up on..."

"That was me," Annette laughed louder this time, "Don't worry. It's all part of the job. I'm glad to see you up and about, though. It's always best-case scenario for a victim of hypothermia to exercise a little. What was his temperture?" She looked to Rose now.

"This morning it was ninety-four," Rose said, "So, with the movement, I think we've gotten him back up to a safe temperature."

"Oh, good," Annette placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, "We might be able to bust you out of here soon."

"Yeah, I should probably start looking for places to live or something..." Jack rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly, "And... find a job, huh?"

"A job, yes," Annette nodded, "But a place to stay? You and Rose have one with me!"

"You couldn't possibly be happy having two extra people live with you," Jack said.

"When it's you two, I couldn't dare turn the company away."

"I promise we won't bother you long," Jack told her, "We'll get back on our feet."

"Oh, I know you will," Annette replied, not at all worried.

Around the corner, horrified screams suddenly pierced the air. The furniture scraped across the floor. Some people came flying down the hallway hurriedly. Others could be heard racing for the door. The receptionist burst out the side door of her booth to abandon her position.

"Ellen, what's happening?!" Annette asked. Rose had paled at all the commotion.

"Someone has a gun!" Ellen didn't even bother to stop as she disappeared around a corner.

Immediately following her words, a gunshot rang out down the hallway.

"Shit, shit, shit," Annette had grown ghostly pale herself as she dropped her clipboard, "Rose, help me get Jack. We'll find the nearest exit." A woman's scream echoed through the waiting room again, making Rose's stomach drop. She gripped Jack's arms and hauled him to his feet.

"I can walk, let's go," Jack said, tugging both their wrists. Quickly, the three began down the hall with a wave of frenzied people. Another gunshot sounded off, coming down the hallway now. Rose glanced over her shoulders and then stopped running, turning completely towards the danger, "Rose!" Jack called, nearly skidding to a stop. Annette made it to the corner, already panting, "Rose, come on. We have to get out of here."

"Rose, please!" Annette's voice was shaking. This had never happened in all her years in the medical field. Her shoulder were rising and falling. Her fingers gripped the corner of the wall so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Jack..." Rose whispered, only pointing at the end of the hallway. Standing in the opening with a stained shirt in need of a wash and dark eyes was Cal. He was holding the pistol at his side. His body was visibly quaking as he stood frozen in his tracks only staring back.

Jack's eyes looked to Cal and he felt nothing but dread. Cal looked unwell. He was the epitome of a train wreck. He looked detached from reality, absolutely crazy. He had been much more composed amongst the sinking of the _Titanic_, Jack was sure.

"Annette, go," Jack said over his shoulder.

"But-"

"Go!" Jack demanded. Annette bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment before she disappeared around the corner. Jack was so exhausted. He wasn't sure what he could even do. But he stepped forward, placing himself in front of the still Rose. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't think he had anything helpful to say, "Cal... put the gun down. Really. Before someone gets hurt."

Cal smiled now and took slow broad steps towards Jack and Rose, swinging the gun at his side as if it wasn't a dangerous weapon. Jack watched his finger carelessly lean against the trigger, "That's what you're worried about? Someone getting hurt?" Cal laughed, his voice rising unsteadily, "Since when have _you _cared about someone getting hurt?!"

"I've never come barging into a hospital with a gun before," Jack kept his face stone hard.

"Hurt can come in many different manifests," Cal sneered. Jack noticed how red and glazed over his eyes were. It was more than alcohol, Jack could tell, "Did you ever stop to consider how you might have hurt me, Dawson?" Jack said nothing. Cal's smile did not waver, "You just appear from the blue. You think you can take what's not yours?!" He was yelling now, his voice raspy, "You think all you have to do is say a few slick words and everything will work in your favor, right?! You've always squeaked by before, so why would this time be any different, right?! All my life, I've busted my ass off to make my father proud, make a name for myself. And you! You've never worked a day in your life, you live off of charity, always looking for ways to be a dirty scummy rat! Well, now, your stupid rat-like tendencies have lead you to a bait that is poisoned," Cal cocked the gun and raised it, aiming it directly at Jack's head, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't waste you right here, right now," His nostrils were flared and his breathing had deepened as he unsteadily pointed the gun at Jack.

"Because that would be murder," Jack said plainly. Inside, however, he felt himself screaming at the thought of having a gun pointed at him. He did his best to remain composed. He tried to convince himself he was a wall, the only protection for Rose, "You're not a murderer, Cal. If you've really busted your ass so hard, why would you throw it all away on someone like me?"

"For once in my life," Cal said, nearly breathlessly, his arm beginning to shake, "I'd like to prove to someone I'm not some push-over. That what is mine is only mine. There is no sharing. I'm not about to stand here and let some _chump _take my woman. I tried to play nicely. I really did. But my patience is gone. And with that, you must go, too," His grip tightened on his gun.

"Cal!" Rose burst from behind Jack, her eyes clouded with tears, "You can't do this."

"Shut up," Cal snapped, "Our time for talking is over, Rose."

"So, that's it?" Jack shrugged, "You kill me and then what? You don't expect the police to find you? How many people in that waiting room saw your face? What about your gun? It's registered to you, I'm assuming. And Rose? You really think she's going to go peacefully with a murderer?"

Cal struck Jack across the head with his pistol in the next moment. Jack staggered into the wall, lightly touching temple as a stream of warm blood oozed from above his hairline. Rose let out a screech, covering her hands over her mouth and stepping away from Cal. Cal lowered the pistol now, his hands shaking profusely, "You ruined everything! I was going to inherit a mutli-million dollar business," He began shouting again, "I was going to be the king of Wallstreet! I was going to have the most beautiful woman on my arm and more money than your entire degenerate family tree has ever seen! You're a rat, you'll never be anything more than that! You should thank me for killing you! You were never going to amount to anything, anyway!"

"Cal!" Roose screeched. Tears flowed like a river down her face, "I'll... I'll go back with you. Just _please_, don't hurt him!"

"So, this is what I have to do to get your attention?" Cal turned on Rose now while Jack struggled to collect himself. His mind was sent for an absolute whirl, "All of our time together, I've done _everything_ I could to at least get a smile out of you! Tell me a time you actually gave me a full sentence reply?! Or appreciated all the gifts you received! There are far more people out there with nothing and you've acted like nothing more than a petulant child, thinking 'oh woe must be me!'. I've tried, Rose. And now, I've grown impatient," He raised the gun, aiming it directly at Jack again, "You've left me no choice. And trust me, I've thought all my options out. I've lost sleep over it. I want nothing more than for things to just go back to normal!"

"But things won't just go back to normal!" Rose exploded, her heart beating in her ears, "If you kill him, things will never be the same!"

Cal smiled, "But you'll be mine. All mine."

Jack lunged for Cal's arm, seeing him distracted. Cal ground his teeth together as the men spun around, trying to get the upperhand. Cal knee'd Jack in the stomach, making him hunch over as the air escaped from his lungs. Rose leapt onto Cal's back, grappling her arms around his neck and making him rear back. They collapsed onto the floor. Rose's back seared up in pain. Her breathing was shallow as she reached for the gun, deftly pulling it from his fingers. She staggered to her feet, but Cal grabbed hold of her dress, taking her abruptly down again. The gun spun across the lineoleum. Jack reached for it, but Cal took his feet out from under him with a swing of his legs. Jack fell on his side, letting out a wheeze. Cal regained control of his gun.

"Look at you!" Cal sneered, his face red, "Fighting me over some pathetic worthless junkie!"

"_You're _the junkie!" Rose screamed from where she sat on her knees, "You relapsed, didn't you, Cal?!"

"What do you care?"

"Look what you're doing!" Rose shouted, flinging her arms out at her side, "People are hiding and taking cover in a hospital, where they're supposed to be safe!"

Cal bit down on his tongue so hard, he tasted his own blood. He lifted the gun, pointing it directly in between Rose's eyes. She looked up at him, a shaking crying mess. Her hair was ruined, pulled apart, and falling wildly all over her shoulders. Tears still made their way down her porcelain cheeks. Cal's arms began shaking again and he let out a huff, lowering the gun.

"I can't kill you, Rose. I love you."

"No, you don't," Rose shook her head, her voice not above a whisper.

Just then, police burst through the front doors, nearly taking them off their hinges. Some people who were cowering beneath furniture slowly crawled out with their hands up as the officers began clearing through. Rose kept her eyes locked on Cal as many witnesses began pointing at him, howling out of fear. They roughly took hold of him, strapping his hands behind his back. Cal never broke eye contact with Rose. Just before they took him away, Cal cleared his throat.

"I do love you. And I will _never _let you go."


	22. Wakes in the Water

Chapter Twenty-Two

_April 26th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose had a blanket draped over her shoulders and a cup of coffee in her hands. She was sitting in a room all by herself, watching the clock tick just past midnight. She was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to go home, fall asleep, and forget anything ever happened. Rose adjusted the blanket and sat back in her chair. It creaked, echoing in the empty room she was in. Only a large table and another chair occupied the space. She glanced to the dark-tinted window, watching many people walk by. Mostly men in nice suits that were very busy. She heaved a sigh and drank from her coffee. It was not very good in her opinion.

Just then, the door opened, and two well-dressed men came in. They glanced to each other before quietly closing the door behind them. One seemed young, maybe around Jack's age. He had short cropped brown hair. The other was much older. His hair was brown as well, but had streaks of grey cropping up at the roots. The older man came towards the table, setting a folder down and glancing at Rose. Rose only stared back, her eyes darting between the men.

"Hello Miss DeWitt Bukater," The young man spoke, "My name is Detective Long and this is my partner, Detective Williams."

"Hello," Rose said with a croaky voice.

"We understand you were at the Central New York Hospital during the time of the shooting," Williams said, crossing his arms over his chest, "And... that you may know more about it," Rose lowered her eyes to the table, "Do you know this man, Miss DeWitt Bukater?" Williams opened the folder on the table and slid forward a mugshot of Cal, taken only hours before. Rose turned her head away the moment she saw it.

"I do," She said, nearly inaudible.

"Caledon Hockley, of Hockley Stock Management and Brokers," Long said, leaning against the wall now and crossing his arms over his chest, "He claims he knows you very well."

"He's my..." Rose had to force herself to look between the detectives, "ex-fiancé."

"Well, that's not what he says," Williams seated himself in the chair, letting out a long sigh, "Whatever the case may be, you're not in any trouble, Miss DeWitt Bukater. We simply wanted to ask you a few questions. I know it may be hard to discuss some things regarding this, but just know, the more information you give us, the more we can use against him in a court of law."

Rose set her coffee down and wrapped the blanket around herself, feeling a chill come on. She looked across the table to Detective Williams, "What kind of trouble is Cal in?"

"Intent to harm, discharging a firearm in a government facility, and pre-meditated murder," Detective Williams said, slipping a piece of gum into his mouth as he spoke, "He could face up to fifty years in prison for this."

"That would be the rest of his life," Rose stated.

"Yes, it would," Williams shrugged, "But that was his choice to make."

"Intent to harm and using a gun on government-operated grounds are a gimmie," Long now strolled to the end of the table, glancing fleetingly at Cal's mugshot, "Those are charges that could maybe get him five years at best. Hell, depending on how deep his father's pockets are, he could even get off those charges with simple probation and house arrest. What will really convince the jury to put him away is if you can corroborate that Mr. Hockley tried to kill you."

_I can't kill you, Rose. I love you._

Rose lowered her eyes for a moment and chewed on her lip, "He wasn't trying to kill me."

"Excuse me?" Detective Williams arched his eyebrows, "Police officers on the scene were witness to Mr. Hockley aiming a gun to you. Is that not true, Miss DeWitt Bukater?"

"He wasn't trying to kill me," She said stronger now, "He was trying to kill a Mr. Jack Dawson."

Long and Williams exchanged a glance, "I think that's the fellow we transferred to the North New York Hospital."

"Yes, he's very ill. He was a passenger on the _Titanic."_

"Well," Detective Williams grinned now, smacking on his gum, "so were you and Mr. Hockley. I'd say you have a very interesting story to tell us, Miss DeWitt Bukater."

Rose leaned forward, fidgeting with her fingers on top of the table, "I was very unhappy in my engagement to Cal. I didn't even have a choice in the say. It all simply leads back to his wallet. He's nearly twenty years my senior. And the only reason we were to be married is simply because his father's business has lived on and my father's was liquidated."

"The DeWitt Bukater Salt Mine Corporation," Williams nodded.

"Yes," Rose replied, then took a shakey breath, "I cannot hide the fact I was unhappy in my life. I don't care for the money, the gaudy dresses, and suffocating parties. I felt I was a prisoner to the world I was born into. We had been in Europe for the better part of last year and this year... and were sailing back on the _Titanic _for the wedding, which was to be held in Philidelphia."

"What day was the wedding supposed to be?" Long asked.

"April 24th," Rose said, darting her eyes to him.

"So, where does Mr. Dawson come into all of this?" Williams raised his hands questioningly.

Rose sat up straight and looked at the detectives. There was no fear grappling her at that moment, "I met Mr. Dawson aboard the _Titanic. _I was attempting to jump off the ship. I was going to kill myself and he talked me out of it. And then... I had an affair with him."

"Oh, boy," Williams nodded, "Mr. Dawson was a first class passenger?"

"No. Third class."

"Man, right in the ego," Long cracked a grin, "I think this is just the story we can use to convince the jury. Stuck-up greedy rich man snaps after his fiancée leaves him for a steerage man. That's absolutely reason enough to convince a court of law that Mr. Hockley indeed had the intent to do more than just harm."

"It's a good story," Williams agreed, "Miss DeWitt Bukater, would you be willing to testify in court against Mr. Hockley?" Rose nearly paled at the question, "I understand he may be a terrifying man to you. I know no one wants a gun pointed directly at them. But, ma'am, if you never want to worry about him coming back for you, it'd be wise to participate so we can secure a conviction."

"I feel that I've done enough damage to Cal, his family, and mine," Rose shrank into her blanket, "I have to live with that fact that my mother will never again secure financial comfort. That Cal's father will have to sell his family business outside of blood," She lifted her head, "And now... I will have to live to with the fact that I made Cal come into a hospital and put people's lives in danger."

"None of this is your fault," Long pressed his palms to the cool surface of the table, "Mr. Hockley made these decisions, Miss DeWitt Bukater. You were simply a domino in his actions. He was severely intoxicated when he was booked and we found cocaine in his jacket."

"So, he did relapse..." Rose whispered.

"He has a history of drug and alcohol abuse?"

"Yes, a very long history," Rose replied.

"Please, Miss DeWitt Bukater, please consider testifying," Williams reached into his coat and held a card out to her, "I understand you're tired. It'd be best if you slept on these decisions. Here's my phone number here at the station. Do you have somewhere to go?"

"Yes," Rose's eyes were glued to the card.

"Do you have a way to get there?"

"I do," Rose lifted her eyes, "Thank you, Detectives."

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

The sun was just rising into the sky, casting pinks and oranges in long shadows over the neighborhood. Ruth sat in her black silk robe on her balcony that overlooked the street. There was a plate of jam toast and a cup of coffee on the table, but it was all forgotten. Ruth had her forehead pressed to her palm as she looked at the newspaper in her hands. **WALLSTREET TYCOON'S SON FIRES GUN IN CENTRAL NEW YORK HOSPITAL.**

_What was he thinking? _Ruth was nearly shaking in her seat, _How could he be so stupid? So selfish? He told me he wouldn't force anything. And even if he was being dishonest, how could he think this was the right way to take care of things?_ She thought to Nathan Hockley, wondering if he had been brought the morning paper, yet. She could imagine his anger. She could see him clearing the table onto the floor, all the while screaming, in a tantrum, like he was known for when things did not go his way.

_New York City, New York- in the mid-afternoon of April 25th, Caledon Hockley, son of Nathan Hockley and heir to Hockley Stock Management and Brokers, entered the Central New York Hospital where over four-hundred patients were staying, and fired a gun into the waiting room. There were miraculously no injuries beside a split skull on a patient who was transferred to the North New York Hospital and is stated as being in 'stable condition'. Currently, there are no reports as to why or what his intent was. Caledon Hockley is being held on bond at the Central New York Police station. A court date has yet to be decided._

"You stupid imbecile," Ruth hissed. She threw the paper harshly onto the table, making it rock. She pulled her coffee closer, feeling her temper rising unsteadily, "You careless, sorry excuse for a human being. I wish I could see you in jail right now. So I could spit on you."

...

_New York City, New York_

When Rose opened her eyes, the sun was just beginning to shine through the window. She blinked rapidly and turned her face into the pillow, yawning widely. That's when she realized she wasn't on the couch. She was in Annette's bed. Annette was lying beside her, and when she heard her movement, she opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Rose whispered.

"No, I've been awake for awhile... I just wanted to stay with you," Annette replied, stretching her legs out beneath the quilt, "How are you?"

Rose shook her head, looking up at the ceiling, "I don't even know."

"Look, Rose..." Annette propped herself up on her elbow, "I'm sure many people have already told you this, but I want you to hear it from me: This is not your fault. Leaving a man for a good reason is not any excuse to come wielding a gun in a jealous fit."

Rose felt hot tears prick her eyes, "I should have just stayed quiet, Annette. I shouldn't have tried to make changes. I... I should have just accepted I was nothing more than a trophy wife. Then I wouldn't have upset anyone else's lives. I may not have jumped off the _Titanic, _but I leapt off my life, and my wakes... they affected people."

"Don't you dare say that," Annette said firmly, "You _are _more than a trophy wife, Rose! Who are you to say that you weren't destined for more?! For God's sake, you adapted to being a nurse within a week! You're so smart, it'd be a waste for you not to utilize it. You did the best thing you could have ever done for yourself."

"I can't help but think it was all just a stupid mistake," Rose croaked as the tears fell from her eyes, "I've ruined so much to get so little. Was it all really worth it...?"

"Yes, of course it was!" Annette cried, "You can help everyone who was affected by making sure he gets put away for good, Rose. We have the power to throw him in jail and lose the key! He'll fester away, never to see daylight again. It was his mistake, not yours."

"Is it really that easy?" Rose cocked her head to look at Annette, "If he goes away for good... will it actually make me feel better?" Annette fell at a loss of words. She simply placed her hand on top of Rose's.

"I'm here for you. Always."

"Thank you," Rose squeaked. She took in a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she fought the tears that kept coming, "Maybe... we can go get some coffee? Visit Jack?"

Annette grinned, "Yes, let's do that. Come on, let's get up."


	23. Reflection

Chapter Twenty-Three

_April 26th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Annette and Rose were directed to the third floor of the North New York Hospital. They took the elevator up, sipping on their coffees. Rose had one in hand for Jack, as well. The hospital was very busy and both the women nearly felt bad for the nurses. They were on leave from their own hospital until the police could clear the investigation. However, they took that as their chance to find a moment of relaxation, if possible. Jack's room was the fourth on the right and he was sharing it with two other people. It was obviously a room for two, but the nurses had wheeled a third in bed and set it up crooked in the corner. Jack was sitting on the edge of his bed and his grin nearly broke his face when he saw the women enter.

"Oh, Jack," Rose sighed, exchanging a kiss with him, "I'm so glad you're alright."

"Likewise," Jack replied as Rose pushed a coffee into his hand, "Seven stitches," He told them, pulling his hair back to reveal the sutures.

"Looks like a clean job," Annette said, squinting as she looked at them.

"Can you leave?" Rose asked.

"Yeah, actually," Jack nodded after taking a sip of his coffee, "As you can probably tell, the hospital is nearly overrun since majority of the patients were transferred here. I'm no where near ill enough for them to justify keeping me."

"Good, let's go," Annette said, "I'd like to find somewhere in the sun to sit."

Jack got to his feet and stretched. He was doing much better and seemed to be operating relatively normal, despite a few kinks in his muscles, "They told me to come back in a few days to have the stitches removed."

"Oh, please," Annette waved her hand, "I'll remove them myself."

"Oh, right, nurses," Jack laughed as they exited the room.

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Ruth had dressed now and gone out to her garden. She was in her most favored spot. Beneath the towering oak tree with a trunk so big, she couldn't even wrap her arms around it. She seated herself, leaning against the trunk. Her husband, John, had planted it when they were purchasing the property. Ruth had been told she was expecting Rose beneath the very same tree. She had experienced many things beneath this tree. And now, all she experienced was regret, pain, and a deep lonliness. Ruth gazed up at her house, glinting in the early afternoon sun. It was awful knowing inside was just maids, butlers, and cooks. Not a single familiar face that she knew. No family. It was all just silence, besides the sound of people working.

Ruth remembered all the times she heard Rose's shoes clacking on that wood. She recalled when Rose would play in the garden, leaping ledge to ledge, giving the gardeners quite a fright. Ruth pressed her fist beneath her chin. Rose had always been quite the different child. She wasn't afraid of ruining dresses or scraping elbows and knees. She had simply just wanted to enjoy herself. Most of Ruth's friend's children were fascinated by the life they were born into. Something had clicked in their minds, reminding them they had obligations to fulfill. But Rose... though she acted proper and dressed correctly, she didn't care what people thought of her. She did and said what she pleased. She spoke as if they were never going to see her again. But they did. And wanted nothing to do with her.

Ruth tried to thing long and hard about where she went wrong. She scoured singular moments of the past, analyzing every last gesture, facial expression, and thought. John had been what a normal father of his status was. He was busy, a rather absent family man. They always had dinner together, but he was distracted or returned only one-worded responses. Rose hadn't bonded much with her father. She shook her head, though. Rose hadn't had a much different father from any of the other children in their neighborhood. Ruth sighed as she thought, though. Rose was only one of three girls of the neighborhood, and the other girls... they had brothers.

She had struggled to get pregnant. It took nearly four years of marriage to even conceive Rose. Before, it had simply never happened. Ruth supposed it was because she was always willowly, so she felt she lacked fertility. Ruth always remembered Rose's birth as a day of joy. It was one of her most favorite memories. Holding Rose for the first time. She had a few soft blonde curls atop her head, which Ruth gently ran her hand over. Her eyes, they were nearly the mirror image of Ruth's. She remembered, in that moment, being in awe. She was absolutely in love with her already. Ruth pressed her lips gently to the baby's forehead.

_"A girl?" John DeWitt Bukater said from the end of the bed, "What will we name her?"_

_ "Rose," Ruth said, looking up, "I want to name her Rose."_

_ "Fine," John shrugged, not at all concerned with the matter._

Her husband's cold attitude, his uncaring nature... it had ruined that memory for Ruth. It had taken her so long to deliver a baby, Ruth thought that counted for something. But John was upset by something she had absolutely no control over. Ruth never became pregnant again. Though, they tried for a very long time. By the time Rose was ten, their marriage was crumbling and no further attempts were to be made. Now, when he returned home, he would shut himself away in the library. He wouldn't allow visitors, essentially barring her having tea in also her favored place. John would rarely return to bed. And if he did, he was gone within a few hours, long before she would normally wake. Dinners were tense and it wasn't long before their names were scooped into the gossip mill. That their family was a bunch of basket-cases. That they all hated each other.

Ruth supposed, that partly was true. The family rarely talked anymore. Rose would simply approach cooks, maids, and butlers herself to be taken care of as a child. She would never ask her mother to go for ice cream or visit the library. The maid's would take her. Ruth had been pre-occupied with the war she was having with John. For years and years, Ruth felt as if she was being gaslighted. She felt that was being punished unfairly.

_"Why don't you just do what the other men partake in, and get a mistress pregnant if you want a son so bad!" Ruth screamed, trembling. John was standing by the dresser, all the way across the room from her. His face was stone hard._

_ "You must really think I'm stupid if you think I hadn't thought of that!" John shouted, now crossing to her, "And you know what?! It was another girl! I'm cursed! Or I'm damned by the witches I choose to mingle with."_

Ruth ground her teeth together and shook her head. She ached to see Rose. She felt she had so much to say to her. Ruth's time of reflection had been very awakening. She let out a long sigh and stood up, dusting her dress off. She glanced up to the canopy of trees for a fleeting moment before she went back inside to the front parlor. She sat down and grabbed the phone, taking a deep breath. Slowly, she brought it to her ear, waiting for the operator to connect her.

"Nathan Hockley, please."

...

_New York City, New York_

The three found themselves in a park in Northern New York. The buildings still towered high, casting long shadows across the street. Cars rolled by and many people were out walking. Rose had excused herself to the public bathroom. Annette and Jack sat side by side on the bench, each with their coffees, only staring ahead. Annette watched Rose walk around the corner of the washroom building, the last of her curls trailing behind her.

"You know... Rose blames herself for the hospital events," Annette looked to Jack beneath her blonde bangs.

"She's a worry-wart," Jack nodded, lowering his eyes, "I figured something was on her mind. I know you don't just get over having a gun pointed at your head, but I knew there was something different."

"How is it that you've known her for such a short amount of time, but know her so well?"

"It's kind of funny," Jack looked at her with a grin, "I don't know. I just feel like I've known her my entire life," He shrugged sheepishly, "I just... I just saw her and when I looked at her... It felt like home."

"Ugh, Hollywood would have a field day with a story like that," Annette shook her head, "Do you think she should testify?"

"Yeah, I think she should," Jack replied, "I know I'm going to. I won't lie, he's much more powerful than me. Whether he be brazeningly-bold or have the right contacts... he'd always be able to get rid of me. Yesterday was a fluke, Annette. If he hadn't been totally zapped out of his mind, he would have killed me. I saw his eyes and just knew, he was on the brink. Verbal manipulation was the only weapon I had. If he doesn't go to prison, he'll never stop coming back for Rose."

"She'll never have a normal life again, if that's the case," Annette said.

"Rose has no idea what normal is," Jack looked down at his hands, "I want to show her what normal is."

"You guys won't be staying much longer in New York City, will you?" Annette gazed across the park to see Rose just exiting the washroom.

"I can't say," Jack shrugged, "I just don't know."

"I know she'll be safe with you," Annette didn't look at him. She simply watched Rose, "That's all I want for her. Security, food, a warm place to lay her head down. I care so much about her. When I first met her... she was sleeping on a park bench with a bag full of things stolen from a hotel. I've seen her hard she works, how far she's come... she does nothing but discredit herself," Annette turned her eyes on Jack, "I love her, Jack. Do you?"

"I do love her," Jack nodded.

"Good," Annette said, then turned to smile at Rose who, by now, had made it to the bench, "So, what shall we do now?"

"Can we just go for a walk?" Rose asked, tilting her head up, "It's a beautiful day."

"Yes," Annette grinned, "Yes, it is."


	24. To The Stars

Chapter Twenty-Four

_April 26th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Annette had gone to take a shower. Rose was sitting at the kitchen island in her black silk robe, a cigarette in her hand. The radio was off. She simply did not feel in the mood. She cradled her head in her hands and sighed, thinking about the mess she had to clean up. If she hadn't done what she had, Cal may never had relapsed and gone off the rails. She felt guilt, for some reason, at essentially deconstructing his entire life. She had done damage there was no undoing now. But at the same time, Rose wanted him to go away. She felt she had taught him a very good lesson about pushing her around. Rose rubbed her eyes and took a drag of the cigarette, feeling so cruel at even thinking that.

Suddenly, hands wrapped around her torso, the palms sinking into the cool silk fabric. Jack pressed his head to her shoulder, his cheek touching her's. She sighed all over again, melting into Jack. It felt so right to have him hold her. She tried to convince herself, as she gripped Jack's calloused hand, that it was all worth it if she could be in his arms, in his safety, wrapped up in his love. He dipped his head, gently pecking her neck.

"You look tense for someone in the comfiest robe ever," Jack whispered, making Rose chuckle.

"I just..." She sighed, "I feel awful, Jack."

"And what for?" Jack slid into the stool beside her, still resting his hand on her thigh, "None of this is your fault. You can't sit here and blame yourself."

"But I do," Rose looked at his blue eyes and she nearly melted at the sight of them. She wished she could simply let go of and forget everything. Rose wanted nothing more than to focus clearly on the future she had with Jack. He had survived by a miracle for a reason: to be with her. And she felt she was wasting the time muddling in the past. But she couldn't pull herself out of her feelings. They were deep and emersive, nearly like a black hole. She sighed, grabbing hold of Jack's hand and gently rubbing her thumb over the top, "I want it all to go away."

"Then testify," Jack said, not breaking their eye contact, "Put him away for good, Rose."

"Is it really that easy?" She whispered, "He goes away and then I'm... happy?"

"You may not be happy at first," Jack shook his head, "But you'll be safe."

Rose lowered her eyes, slowly taking a drag of her cigarette. Jack reached for one of his own, flicking the lighter. Rose watched the way his blond hair fell across his foreheads. The way his neck muscles puckered out as he hunched forward to light his cigarette. She admired his hands. They were so graceful in everything they did. He raked his blond hair back as he leaned against the island, making her heart jump.

"Jack, I've ruined everything."

"Ruined what? Cal's the one who decided to get zapped on drugs and pull a gun out," Jack shrugged, balancing the cigarette between his lips.

"I ruined my mother's life."

"Stop right there," Jack pulled his cigarette from his mouth and leaned forward, gripping both of Rose's arms in his hand, "You are not responsible for what happens to your mother. She's lived much longer than you and she should know better, Rose. How stupid could she be using you as a pawn to get the life she wants? Did you ever see her lift a finger to take part in fixing all of this? No. She simply sold you off to the first man willing to buy. You should not feel bad for what happens to your mother. In fact, you should be angry! Why aren't you mad, Rose?"

Tears now came to Rose's eyes and she lowered her head, her shoulders hitching as the sobs came tumbling out. She put her cigarette in the ash tray and pressed her palms to her face, trying to conceal her hideous crying. Jack pulled her into him, deftly sweeping her legs up. He cradled her in his lap as she cried, "For once in my life, I've got what I wanted... but, I'm not as happy as I thought I would be. I've done so much destruction. How could I possibly live with what I've done?"

"These are not your battles to fight," Jack said softly, pressing his cheek to her forehead, "You're not responsible for everyone's happiness, Rose. It's an unfair burden they've placed on you. You cannot fall for it. It's part of their manipulation," Rose's cries softened now. She gripped his suspenders, hiding herself in his chest, "Look how much you've done for yourself. You should be so proud. You shouldn't be afraid of anything. You're the strongest woman I know."

"How can I sit on the stand and say what's happened out loud, before all these strangers, with _him _looking at me?" Rose croaked.

Jack tipped Rose's head up. Her green eyes were so watery, like a thunderstorm had just blown across the wide open fields that were reflected in them. Her cheeks were flushed and tear stained. Jack brought his calloused hand up, gently carressing her cheek, whisking a stray tear away, "You can do it because you're you, Rose. You won't take crap from anyone. He doesn't control you anymore. He has no power in your life. For once in your life, Cal's mercy is in _your _hands. The tides have changed and you cannot let this moment of power pass you by."

"I'm scared, Jack," She breathed, shaking in his arms.

"Scared of what? Of Cal?" Jack shook his head, "You must be crazy to think I'd ever let something like that happen again, Rose. He will _never _lay another hand on you. His eyes will never undress you again. His little psychological manipulation will only fall on deaf ears. You're my world, Rose. Nothing will ever happen to you... not if I can help it."

Rose craned her neck forward, urgently placing her lips on Jack's. He pushed back without any hesitation, her curls knotting up between his fingers. Her fingers fumbled with the top of his shirt and he smiled into her kisses before pulling back, "What about Annette?"

Rose glanced over her shoulder to hear the shower down the hallway, "We have time," She looked back to Jack, still undoing the buttons of his shirt, "Please, Jack... I need you."

Heat was pulsating through Jack's body as he stood, carrying Rose to the couch. He laid her out slowly, pulling himself ontop of her. He kissed her neck gently. It felt so wonderful, Rose's hand stopped working. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his broad shoulders, gripping his suspenders tightly to pull him to her. His lips left a blazoning trail down her neck. He undid the sash of her robe to expose her skin. It was so soft and radiant, nearly like porcelain. It was absolutely perfect. Jack ran his hands along her curves as he met her lips again. Tenderly, they shared kisses. Everything in the world was melting away. All that occupied Rose's mind was Jack. She reached for his pants, undoing the snap. The next few moments were pure bliss as Jack made love to Rose. She tried to keep her moans quiet, but they echoed down the hallway. She didn't care if Annette heard. Rose desperately wanted this moment with Jack. She had craved for it since the moment she had awoken from the accident. He felt so right inside of her. She felt he was the only one who was supposed to be doing this to her. Jack held Rose close as they continued. His whole body tingled. He had never experienced such physical pleasure from something such as this. Never had he craved a woman so badly. Rose let out a moan, tilting her head. Jack quieted her by placing his lips on her's. She gripped his neck, his hand resting on her breast. They quickened the pace. Rose's hands began digging into his shoulders, a smile coming across her face as she was rocked back and forth. He finished, letting out an uneven breath as he pressed his face into her neck. Rose wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in close, sending him further into pleasure.

He lifted his head, pushing his bangs from his face. Jack gazed down onto Rose, who only looked back. She brought her hands to his strong jaw, gently carressing him. Her fingers left a trail of fire all over his skin. He took all of Rose in, every detail. How flawless she was. How beautiful. Everything about her was perfect.

And she was all his.

...

_April 27th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

"Hockley, visitor!" A guard called, whacking the bars with his baton. Cal barely even moved from where he laid on his bed. Cal could hardly call it a bed. The springs dug into his back and creaked at the slighest movement. The blanket was so thin, he had been chilled to the bone overnight. He had a gnarly headache as he withdrew from all his escapades. He heard the jingling of keys and the gate slid open. Cal looked over his shoulder to see Ruth and Nathan standing in his cell.

"Get up, Cal," His father sneered.

Slowly, Cal came to his feet. He was sore all over his body. His wrists glared with burns from the cuffs he so desperately fought against as he was detained. He brushed his hair back to be somewhat decent. His clothes were ratty, however. He blinked in the musty lighting of the cell and turned to his father. But in the next moment, he was back on his knees, panting, as his father struck him over the head.

"You Goddamn imbecile!" Nathan shouted, nearly shaking, "After everything I've done for you! All the sacrafices, the education, the training! You throw it all away! And for what!?" Cal said nothing. He meerly remained on his knees as if he was a peasant, "I've given you everything in this entire world! And you just trash it, like it was worth nothing! You've got _my _name, my businesses name, printed in every major newspaper across the country! You've put us in a light so bright, there is no hiding! You're worthless, Cal! You're a selfish junkie!"

"Junkie?!" Cal glared at his father, "I am not a junkie!"

"What's all this I hear about cocaine and alcohol!?" Nathan growled, "Pull yourself together!"

"It was a mistake, father," Cal insisted, "One I swear to never make again."

"You sure as Hell won't! They want to lock you up for fifty years for attempted murder!" Nathan shouted, his voice echoing down the halls of the jail, "Attempted murder of your fiancée is just the scandal the rat's down at the New York Times are looking for! You may be putting the final nail in my coffin on Wallstreet!"

Cal staggered to his feet, "I wasn't trying to kill Rose!"

"Then who!?" Nathan shouted, flinging his arms out.

"That rat-bastard, Jack Dawson!" Cal sneered, "You know, the one who stole my fiancée?!"

Nathan struck Cal again. Cal windmilled his arms, collapsing on his bed, which squeaked, "You threw all of this away on some peasant!? On some chump?!"

"You don't understand," Cal said with dark eyes, "He took what is mine!"

"What are you, eight!?" Nathan's blood pressure was rising. The man could barely even see straight anymore, "Rose was replaceable! She always was!" Ruth shot him a side eye, "Who cares that she wanted to live the life of a whore in a gutter?! That was her choice to make! You and I decided you would move on! Were you lying to my face!?"

"I love her!" Cal roared, coming to his feet again, "She was more than some trophy wife to me! I loved her! And I'd be damned if I was going to let Dawson squeak by like he always does! He's been far too lucky! I wanted to show him who he was dealing with."

Nathan pressed his hands to his temples, shaking his head, "First of all, stop saying you were trying to kill him. I'm calling a lawyer. Some of these charges are negotiable. We're getting you of here."

"You're paying my bail?"

"Hell no, I'm not," Nathan growled, "You'll stay here until they decide a court date. I feel like I can't even look at you."

"Where is my daughter?" Ruth asked, stepping forward now. Nathan walked towards the gate, pressing his forehead to the cool bars to ease his growing headache. Cal looked to Ruth and simply stared. He shook his head, lowering his eyes.

"She stays at 1405 Avenue B, apartment 201."

"Thank you," Ruth said curtly, turning away from him.

"Guard! Get me the hell out of here!" Nathan boomed.

...

Annette, Jack, and Rose all sat at the kitchen island. The radio was quietly crooning some jazz as the three friends simply enjoyed a conversation. They each had their own cigarette and three glasses of beer. They decided to spend the day in and have some fun. Annette and Jack both knew it'd be good for Rose to take her mind off of things.

"... He tried to run out of the hospital with a needle stuck in his arm," Annette was laughing with rosy cheeks, "It took four security guards to drag him back!"

"People in the hospital are a different breed," Rose chuckled, "I keep thinking about how Daisy told me I was a floozy and in the same breath, asked for orange juice!"

Annette burst out in a guffaw, "God, I hope the people at the North New York Hospital are having fun with her!"

"She's lucky you nurses don't poison her," Jack said after a drag on his cigarette.

"Oh, I thought about it," Annette grinned.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Rose stopped mid-drink and set her glass down, "I'll get it," She stood, smoothing her dress. She took a drag of her cigarette as she crossed and opened the door. When she did, however, she nearly went into a coughing fit. Slowly, the smoke trailed from her mouth as she stared at the visitor in the doorway.

"Who is it, Rose?" Annette crossed to stand behind the girl who looked to have seen a ghost. Annette looked to the woman, knitting her eyebrows together, "Can we help you?" Jack now had stood and also came to the door.

"Oh, Jesus..." He muttered under his breath. Annette looked between Jack and Rose before staring at the woman again.

"Rose, we need to talk," The woman said curtly. Rose was paralyzed.

"Who are you?" Annette asked. The woman turned her green eyes on Annette.

"I'm Rose's mother."

"Oh, shit..." Annette said.


	25. Changing Tides

Chapter Twenty-Five

_April 27th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

"So, that's Rose's mother?" Annette asked, peering around Jack. They were seated on a bench across the street from where Rose and Ruth spoke. The two women were on their own bench as well. Jack pulled a pack of cigarettes out and offered one to Annette, who accepted, "I wish I could read lips."

"I imagine it's no good," Jack said, fumbling with his lighter, "Her mother is very demanding. She expects way too much of Rose. I think she knows it, too. She sets herself up to be angry and upset with Rose unfairly."

"Why can't they just leave her alone," Annette sighed, flatly, "They've already done a number on her. I just want Rose to be happy."

"Me too."

The two leaned forward to glance towards Ruth and Rose again. The two red headed women were not moving much. They seemed to be having a quiet conversation. Jack knit his eyebrows together as he watched their body language. No one seemed upset, angry, or hurt.

Across the street, Rose stared at her mother beneath the brilliant light of the afternoon.

"I'm glad I found you," Ruth said, lowering her eyes.

"How _did _you find me?" Rose asked, gently. It was if she was dealing with a lioness that she did not want to upset, "My name isn't in a phone book. That apartment does not belong to me."

"Cal told me," Ruth replied, now looking back to her daughter, "I went and saw him in jail."

"So, what's the meaning of all this?" Rose shrugged, "I certainly hope you did not come here to talk me into bailing Cal out. I hope you don't expect me to return to Philidelphia."

"No, actually," Ruth's eyes darted around for a moment, "I came to tell you that... we need to put Cal away. For a very long time."

"What, are-"

"Please," Ruth reached forward, placing her hands atop Rose's, "There are some words I need to say, Rose, and I would appreciate it if you just let me say them," Rose stared back at her mother, unsure if it was really her. Ruth let out a sigh, closing her eyes momentarily. She forced them back open, however, and looked at Rose intently, "I've never been a perfect mother, Rose. I've made several mistakes. I've taken a lot of time to reflect on the past. Just a week ago, I had no idea how we got here. But I thought more about it..." She paused, feeling a shake come up her spine, "Your father and I did not properly love you like we were supposed to. We were all you had and we simply... cast you aside. We didn't give you the attention a child needed. We left you alone, in the dark, all because we had our own feud going on. I thought John would always be here to provide for us. I thought that, no matter what, we could take care of you by our standards because we had money. All my life, my family had money. It never dribbled dry, and yet, _ours _did. Your father left us high and dry and I... I panicked. I panicked for my own sake," Ruth turned her head to glance at the street, "I should not have forced you into an engagement with Cal. I see now just how dastardly he really was," She reached forward, brushing some hair back from Rose's face, "I see just how badly he hurt you. You're my only daughter, Rose. My _only _child. And you were a miracle by some standards, especially to me. Your father may not have thought so, but you were my miracle. When I was alone in our house in Philidelphia, I felt the lowest I ever had in my entire life. Knowing that you would never visit... never call. That's not how I want things to be. You're all I have left, Rose. And I realized... I was only chasing you away."

"But what about the house?" Rose could barely whisper, her throat felt pinched, "How will we continue to pay for it? You could be homeless in a year's time."

"I'll sell things," Ruth nodded adamantly, "Your wedding dress will fetch a pretty penny. Some antiques as well. We own rare books," Rose lowered her eyes.

"I ruined everything, Mother," Rose said, "I was selfish-"

"You were not selfish," Ruth cut her off, "_I _was selfish."

"You're okay with me being a nurse?"

"I don't like that you work," Ruth shook her head, "But if it's what you want to do... Well, we both know I was never going to be able to stop you. You jumped off a train to make sure that didn't happen."

"What about me being with Jack?"

Ruth paused and looked over her shoulder where Annette and Jack were. They were staring back, but when they saw Ruth, they both looked different directions. Ruth offered a small smile, looking at the hot pavement for a moment before looking back to Rose, "He's not the man I would pick by any standard... but now, all I care about is you being happy, Rose. We're turning a new coin here," Ruth gently carressed Rose's hand, "I want us to be the family people always thought we were. I want to be a family like I've read in books. Supportive, loving, unafraid to speak to each other. I'm not going to live forever, Rose. I couldn't bear dying knowing you would never visit my grave... or even be upset that I am gone."

"I... I don't know what to say," Rose replied slowly.

"You don't have to say anything," Ruth told her, "Just please, promise me, you'll testify against Cal. If we don't put him away, he'll only come back to haunt us. To endlessly remind us of what we did and didn't do."

"Okay," Rose let out a breath, "I'll testify, Mother."

"That's my girl," Ruth reached forward and gently kissed Rose on her forehead, "You don't have to worry about me, Rose. In fact, I think I have a few tricks up my sleeve. If us women can survive the _Titanic_, what else could possibly stop me?"

"What's your trick?" Rose knit her eyebrows together.

"I'll find my own husband."

Rose smiled and laughed now, "I'm really glad you've told me this, Mother. It's really a weight off my shoulders. I just... I couldn't do it anymore. Something inside of me snapped. I know I've acted ridiculous for the past few weeks, but I was so filled with dread about what my life was becoming. I was spiralling out of control and the _Titanic _was the final thing that crushed me. It made me realize what I was actually dealing with. I was essentially allowing myself to be trapped. I never loved Cal, Mother. There wasn't a single moment in the entirety of our engagement where I had feelings for him."

"It was wrong of me, Rose..." Ruth lowered her eyes, "I want us to put it all behind us."

"Me too," Rose gripped her mother's hand, giving it a squeeze.

...

Rose, Jack, and Annette sat in a booth at a pub not too far from the apartment. Annette and Jack were focused intensely on Rose as she explained what had taken place between her and her mother. Rose took her time with her words, drinking her beer all the while.

"Is it really that easy?" Jack asked. He had ordered his second beer and was feeling rather loose. He sunk into the booth and wrapped his arms around Rose's shoulders, "She just magically saw the light?"

"Well, she finally realized what she was doing," Rose nodded, her head swimming, "It's pretty amazing, in my opinion. Those are the words I always wanted to hear my mother speak. It only took a near-death experience and some breakdowns to make her say them," She laughed flippantly.

"Here's to you, Rose!" Annette lifted her glass, "Prosperity for everyone!"

...

Cal laid on his terrible bed. His back was aching as he stared at the musty ceiling, his fingers laced over his stomach. His mind was occupied only by one thing. Rose. He saw her damned red hair waving in the wind. Her luminescent skin that glowed like an angel in the light. He could see her curvy body, nearly begging to be touched by his hands. He tried to rid his mind of images of her, but even the slightest blink brought her to the forefront of his mind. She was in his head, in his blood. Rose was the only thing he could focus on, fixate on. He more than anything wanted her gone.

He sighed and turned on his side, his bed groaning beneath his weight. Cal sunk his face into his pillow as he saw Rose in her frilly yellow dress that she wore at their engagement dinner. It was his favorite dress of them all. It hung tightly to her torso, accentuating her small waist and ample breasts. It flared out at her hips, making her put royalty to shame. Cal blinked slowly. He was so tired, yet he knew sleep would never come. Not while he was here.

_February 23rd, 1911_  
_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

_ The large french doors were left open, allowing the cool evening air to waft in from the balcony that overlooked the garden from the DeWitt Bukater's marble dining hall. Cal was pouring himself a glass of brandy at a long table covered in a white linen, devoid of any wrinkles or imperfections. He glanced upwards to the wall-length windows, but the room was so bright, he only saw his reflection. Cal watched himself for a moment more before he spied someone approaching him at his side._

_ It was a woman just a few years younger than him with hair so bright, it was nearly ashen. She had it braided and wound on top of her head. Her velvet gray dress followed her stiffly as her heels clacked against the freshly polished floors. She came to Cal, pressing her hand to his arm, "Oh, Caledon, this is a magnificent engagement party. Rose is so beautiful!" The two turned to watch the redheaded girl in the yellow dress exchange words with friend's of her mother. They were an elderly couple dressed to the hilt, "You two will be very happy, I just know it."_

_ "Thanks, Glenda," Cal nodded, sipping his brandy._

_ "I know your mom would think the world of this shin-dig," Glenda grinned._

_ Cal and Glenda had been friends since childhood. His mother and her mother were the best of friends. They did nearly everything together, even if it was just sitting silently and reading books side by side. Because of this, Glenda was over at his house quite frequently. They were never as rich, but Cal's mother, Irene, had met her best friend in finishing school and they were inseperable after that._

_ "Are you excited?" Glenda's bright green eyes gleamed his direction._

_ "Naturally," Cal replied, reservedly._

_ "You men and your stoicism," Glenda chuckled, "I know you'll make her happy."_

_ Rose looked across the room to Cal. A smile did not come to her face. She turned her head to the side, loose strands of her upswept hair brushing against her cheeks. Cal took another sip of brandy, watching as she strolled towards the string quartet playing beside the open french doors. She watched them intently, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world._

_ "If you'll excuse me, Glenda," Cal said without even looking at the family-friend._

_ He crossed the room, his leather sole shoes echoing on the floor. He glanced towards the dozens of people who were spread out across the dining hall. Each had a flute glass of champagne, wine, or liquor. Everyone was laughing and smiling. They all seemed to be having a great time. Cal came to Rose's side, looking towards the violinist who was swaying with the strokes of his bow._

_ "Are you having a good time, sweetpea?" He asked._

_ She didn't move. She simply watched the source of the music. Freshly sixteen years old, she was a beauty to behold. Cal nearly shook just at the sight of her. He couldn't fathom how a human could be so beautiful. He was certain she was painted in murals on church walls and sung about in the sappiest songs. She was a catch and a half and sometimes Cal wondered if she knew that._

_ "Yes, I am," She finally replied, looking up at his eyes, "Are you?"_

_ "A grand time," He nodded, swishing his brandy around in his crystal glass, "Do you want anything? Maybe a glass of wine? Would you prefer white or red?"_

_ "A glass of red wine," She told him. He felt himself melt at the sight of her eyes, "I think I'll go out to the balcony. It's rather hot and stuffy in here."_

_ Rose brushed past Cal and into the darkness just beyond the threshold. Cal watched her yellow dress slowly walk out of the gleaming light. He then turned and went to fetch her a glass of wine. He made passing small chat with many people trying to catch his attention, but he hurried himself out onto the balcony. The nighttime was very cool, nearly chilly. Rose was standing at the railing, looking out over the entirety of the garden she had watched bloom for the past fifteen spring seasons. He cleared his throat so as to not startle her before he joined her in the view._

_ "Thank you," She said quietly, sipping her wine._

_ "Are you cold?" He asked. Without waiting, he set his drink down and shrugged out of his coat, holding it out for her. Rose looked to the silky liner for a moment before she relented to allowing him to put the coat over her shoulders. It bagged heavily on her, epitomizing her fragile femininity. Her hands instantly looked smaller with the cuffs hanging over her wrists. Cal adjusted his suspenders on his shoulders and then picked his brandy back up, taking a drink, "It's lovely out here at night. I love this time of the year."_

_ "Yes, the cold weather is nice," Rose agreed._

_ "What's your favorite month?" Cal asked as the brandy began making his head swim._

_ "May," Rose replied, holding her wine glass with both of her hands, "It's still not too hot but the flowers are starting to open up and the trees are full again. I enjoy watching the new life come back."_

_ "So, you like gardens?" Cal leaned against the railing, glancing to her. His dark eyes reflected the moonlight._

_ "They're peaceful," Rose said, nodding. She didn't look at him._

_ "I'll buy you a house with the largest garden in the neighborhood," Cal told her, "And we won't stop looking for that perfect house until you say so. I'll build you a garden a mile long. When you look off your own balcony, you'll see nothing but your garden."_

_ A small smile twitched at Rose's face as she tilted her head back and drank more of her wine. Cal stood up straight, taking one of her small hands into his palms. He felt electricity just from the touch of her porcelain skin. Cal gently ran his fingers over her knuckles before bringing her hand to his lips, where he gently pecked her skin, "I'll do anything to make you happy, Rose."_

_ "I know," Rose simply said._

_ "I mean it. I want to spoil you rotten."_

_ "I don't need anything."_

_ "I want to give you everything."_

_ Rose looked away, lowering her eyes. He watched her beneath the moonlight. He loved how full her eyelashes were as they batted up and down. Rose pulled her hand away and fluffed the pile of hair atop her head. She strolled a few steps away from Cal, the music drifting out to them where the party continued on. Rose's heels echoed on the balcony, her hand sliding along the railing. She paused and looked to Cal._

_ "What can you give someone who already has everything?" Rose asked._

_ Cal glanced out to the garden for a moment, absent mindedly twirling his drink in his hand, "No one ever has everything. There's always more to be had. There's always ground to cover."_

_ Rose looked down at her feet, shuffling them beneath her skirt for a moment. When she raised her face to meet his eyes, she was grinning, "I thought you might say that."_

_ Rose then turned on her heels and retreated back into the dining room, leaving Cal alone on the balcony. He watched her hips sway as she sauntered away. She didn't make it far, however, before someone came up to speak with her. Cal turned around to look over the garden, drinking more of his brandy, rather pensively. He knit his eyebrows together, wondering what the future held for him and Rose._


	26. Soulmate

Chapter Twenty-Six

_April 28th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Ruth glanced around her hotel room one last time before she handed her one bag to the bell boy waiting in the hallway. She headed towards the elevator, patiently standing beside the hotel employee. She folded her hands in front of her as she stepped into the elevator and went down to the front foyer.

"Where would you like your bag, ma'am?" The bell boy asked as they stepped out after the operator pulled the gate back.

"Just by the door. I'm going by train," She told him as she began to steer towards the front desk, "Excuse me," Ruth caught the attention of the clerk, "Do you offer a service to deliver messages?"

"Yes, ma'am, as long as it's in the state of New York. We don't do long distance."

"Excellent," Ruth reached for the pen and paper sitting on the desk, "I have a note I'd like you to deliver to someone here in New York City. I'll write the address at the top."

...

Rose was sitting on the couch reading a magazine. Jack had finally gotten his hands on some charcoal pencils and paper and was busy sketching away at the island. Rose bobbed her knee as she read an article about New York City's fashion scene. It seemed to be as exciting as it was in France. Rose slowly turned the page to another block of text when she heard Annette coming down the hallway. When she appeared in the living room, she was wearing a sleeveless green dress.

"Hey," Rose lowered her magazine, "You're all done up for it being the middle of the day. Special occasion?"

"... Another date," Annette said shyly, rubbing her hand along her skirt to eliminate creases.

"Oh, really!" Rose came to her feet, tossing the magazine carelessly aside, "Where are you two going?"

"To Robert's Fresh Kitchen," Annette said, walking towards the door where a mirror was hanging, "It's a seafood restaraunt. I suggested it last time. Do you think seafood is too bold?" She asked as she straightened the lines on her lipstick.

"No, not at all," Rose assured her, "So, when will you bring this special person by? I'd sure like to meet them," Rose grinned widely. Annette gave her a goofy grin.

"What, are you my mother?" Annette busted out laughing.

"Just a supportive friend," Rose came forward and fluffed Annette's hair gently, then rest her hands on her shoulder, "Go have a great time, Annette."

Annette smiled, giving Rose's hand a pat, "Thank you. I'll be back by ten at the latest."

Rose waved and shouted after Annette and then closed the door. She let out a content sigh and jaunted into the kitchen, flipping the jazz station on. She then turned, grabbing a glass jar of apple juice out of the fridge and pouring it into a glass.

"So, Annette's got a date?" Jack lifted his eyes. Rose was nearly stunned by the beauty he graced. He had a playful smirk on his face.

"Yeah, she does," Rose nodded, popping the cap on the apple juice and returning it to the fridge.

"What's his name?"

"Well, actually," Rose arched her eyebrows, "_She's _a girl, but I don't know her name. Annette doesn't talk a lot about it and I don't want to push the subject."

"So... Annette likes girls?" Jack cocked an eyebrow up. Rose nodded, "Hm, okay."

"That doesn't bother you, right?" Rose leaned forward.

"No, o'course not. I just wanted to be sure I understood," Jack nodded, his smile never wavering, "She's free to be anyone she wants. That's what America is about, right? Well, that's what I at least remember from school."

"Very good point," Rose nodded after a sip of her apple juice, "You're absolutely right."

"Well, Annette's gonna be gone all day if she said she'd be back by ten," Jack glanced towards the clock hanging over the archway of the kitchen. It said two twenty-four, "That means we have time to go do something."

"Oh?" Rose sounded surprised, turning the radio down, "Like what?"

"Let's just go out on a date," Jack shrugged, pushing his art supplies aside, "Let's expect nothing. Let's just walk and see where we find ourselves. This city is huge, Rose. We could get lost out there," Jack slid out of his stool and curved around the side of the island, enveloping Rose's waist into his arms. He gave her tug, bringing her into his chest, "Let's just go get lost together for a little while... Let's escape," Jack combed his hands gently through her curls. Rose tilted her head upwards, meeting his lips gently.

"Okay, let's go," She whispered, her face only inches from his.

...

"Hockley, Caledon!" Came a boom down the hallway. Cal had just been about to fall asleep when the sharp call of his name had him abruptly jerking upright in his bed. He legs felt weak. He had confined himself to bed since the moment he had arrived. Cal was disillusioned to how much time had even past. It felt like an eternity to him, like his punishment was never-ending. His pain was deepening by the moment. Not even sleep helped. All he dreamt of was her, "Hockley, Caledon! To your feet!" Cal sighed, rubbing his eyes deeply. He slouched as he pulled his legs over the side. Cal took his time coming to his feet, shuffling across the jail cell pathetically, gripping the bars, "Lawyers here!"

"Send him down, send him down," Cal said, his voice scratchy. He waved his hand heavily, lacking energy in every muscle. Cal raked his hands through his dishevelled hair and tried his best to straighten his back to appear to have good posture. He was so exhausted, however, he went to sit on the stool against the wall. He waited nearly impatiently, ready to get back in bed and sleep his life away. There was shuffling down the hall as an officer appeared and unlocked the gate for a well-dressed man with slicked inky black hair. He had olive skin, a pearly smile, and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a grey suit with a black undershirt and matching tie.

"Caledon, hello," The man said, watching the guard close the door. He then turned and extended his hand to the rather broken man in the stool, "Your father called me. We go way back. I've been his lawyer for the state of New York for quite some time. In fact, when I started working for him, you were a tiny lad!" Cal met his hand and was nearly tossed around by the energetic shake, "My name is Ethan Polacki, attorney at law. I'm here to help you."

"And what can you do for me?" Cal croaked.

"I'm going to give you the best representation money can buy," Ethan told him. He thunked his leather suitcase on the bed and began shuffling through it, withdrawing a packet of papers and a steno pad, "I've been reviewing your charges. They have you on three charges. And two of these, I'm pretty sure I can get them wiped off the books."

"What about the third one?" Cal looked to Ethan with his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Attempted murder is pretty hefty," Ethan shrugged, "But I've gotten men out of murder. I don't think I'll have any issues with your case. Attempted murder is such a bullshit accusation. No one died, so let's move on with it, don't you think?" He smiled and Cal could see a slightly scummy underbelly to the way the man practiced law. Ethan grabbed himself a stool and scraped up in front of Cal, leaning forward, he spoke quietly, "Now, as your lawyer I am bound by a client-attorney bond. Everything you tell me is protected. I can't and won't tell another soul. I just want us to be on the same page," Ethan told him, scribbling on the paper all the while, "Who _were _you trying to kill?"

Cal hunched his shoulders and released a sigh, glancing towards a dark musty corner of his cell, "I don't know what I was doing."

Ethan paused from his writing and stared at Cal intently, "Is this because... you were intoxicated on more than just alcohol?"

"I suppose, yes," Cal fiddled with his hands, "Things haven't been well recently. My fiancée left me for some degenerate. I was losing control of the family business. It all just came crashing down on me. I really don't know why I did what I did. I would never even think of causing serious harm to anyone. I... I was just under a lot of stress. I wasn't adapting to my current predicament very well."

"That's good," Ethan nodded, returning to scribbling, "I'm going to get you the soonest court date I can. I want the jury to see you wrapped up in your emotions. I want them to see just how on the edge you were. With a story like that, we could be looking at simple house arrest and maybe a couple months probation. You could be back at work and living your normal life within half a year, I think," He smiled to himself as he continued writing, "Now, is there anyone I should know about that could possibly think of testifying against you? The detectives down at the police station are total ass wipes, would barely tell me a thing."

Cal looked to his palms, feeling his hands shake, "Yes, quite possibly."

"And who might those people be?"

"My ex-fiancée and her... her boy-toy," Cal replied.

"So, that's uh, Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater and...?" Ethan cocked a bold brow up.

"Jack Dawson," The words sounded so wrong in Cal's mouth. Like they weren't supposed to be there. It felt vile to say, as if he had put spoiled food in his mouth, "He may have been the one I was trying to kill..."

"So, are we going with the 'You were so messed up, you didn't know what you were doing' scenario?" Ethan asked slowly, "Because between you and me, Caledon, that won't hold up."

"I don't know, dammit," Cal growled, coming to his feet. He paced anxiously, "I don't know what the hell I was doing, okay? I made a mistake. A grave one! I should have never come back to New York City to find Rose. Who was I kidding?" He was laughing now, pressing his palm to his forehead, "I thought I was going to convince her to come back with me. Have the wedding. Live happily freaking after! But all I saw were things that angered me. She was doing just fine without me! She was making friends, advancing in a career! She was doing all things I thought she wasn't capable of. Something inside of me snapped, Mr. Polacki. I couldn't stand not having my way."

Ethan stood, adjusting his coat, "So, this woman drove you crazy? She drove you to the edge?"

"She's all I can think about! She haunts me, you see! I can't sleep without seeing her. She's on my mind in every waking moment! I just want her gone, out of my life," Cal shook his head, as if to make the images of Rose dissipate, "But at the same time, I just want her back, Mr. Polacki. She's my everything. I made countless errors in our relationship, but I thought we were cemented in. No going back. She would be my bride and nothing more would be done."

"I like this raw emotion," Ethan placed his hands on his hips, "Any sane person in the court would see you were simply a man backed in a corner. And just like any animal, what do you do? You fight back! She was yours all along. And, trust me, I know you Hockley's. You want what's yours and don't like anyone to touch your stuff."

Cal sighed uselessly, pausing to look out his jail cell at the dimly lit hallway, "Rose is the only thing I care about now, Mr. Polacki. There's no way I'll ever work for my father again. I've blown all chances at inheriting any portion of his business. It would all be worth it if I could just have Rose."

"Well, uh, I don't think she's coming back to you," Ethan rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly, "Let's try to focus on the important thing here, Caledon: getting you exonerated. If they put you away, you'll never have a chance to win your woman back, anyway. So, please, let's sit down and go through this slowly. Let's get our stories straight."

Cal shook his head, looking down at his shoes which were in desperate need of a polish. He resigned, seating himself back in his stiff and uncomfortable stool. Ethan seemed pleased and also sat down, pulling all of his paperwork back into his lap.

"Okay," Ethan let out a breath as he shuffled his papers around, "Once more, from the top. Tell me about the events leading up to this."

...

The ocean lapped up against the side of the pier. Jack and Rose saw at the very end, sharing a lemonade between each other. The sky was wide open, barely any clouds trailing past. The couple stared out into the endless ocean, spying some ocean liners on the horizon. Jack sucked his lemonade through the straw, watching the seagulls squawk by.

"This is the port the _Carpathia_ docked at," Rose told him as Jack passed the drink to her, "You should have seen the crowd awaiting us. They were packed elbow to gut, all the way out to the street. Journalists, gossipers, worried family members. It was disorienting walking off the ship, straight into the flashes of cameras and people yelling to get their portion of the story. The newspapers already had word about the _Titanic's _demise. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie."

"God, that's awful," Jack shook his head, "Such a big incident and all the journalists worry about is hounding people who had been through hell. What a world we live in now, where everyone knows everyone else's business."

"It was quite the event," Rose agreed, lowering the drink into her lap, "But... I'm glad it happened, actually."

"Really?" Jack arched his eyebrows.

"Yes, of course," Rose looked to Jack, placing her hand on his thigh, "I may have lost everything and maybe even a little of myself during the whole ordeal... but I got to meet you, Jack. Don't you think it was a one in a million chance? People rarely meet their soul mates, I think. People fall in love and think, 'This is the one', but how can they be sure it's really their soul mate? I knew the instant I met you that you were really the one."

Jack grinned, lowering his eyes for a moment, "I guess it really was sheer luck. But if I'm really your soul mate... don't you think our paths would have crossed at some other time? Do you think soul mates are destined to meet?"

Rose looked out to the horizon, taking in the salty air, "Yes... we could have met at a different time and place, but who knows how things would have been then. I think we met at the right time, even if we were on a doomed ship. That's how I know you're my soul mate, Jack," She looked into his dazzling blue eyes, "Through everything that has happened, we survived. And now, we get to be together. Nothing will come between us anymore. It was all worth it."

She handed the lemonade out to him and he took a long gulp of the tangy juice, "It's a shame that picture of you went down with the _Titanic._ I think it was the best piece I'd ever done."

Rose's cheeks burned red and she grinned, "We could always do another one."

"Yeah, but the Heart of the Ocean really gave the piece meaning."

"You know... I still have that necklace."

"What?" Jack's head snapped to her in an instant, "You do?"

"You probably don't remember, but right before I was forced onto that lifeboat, Cal put his jacket on me," Rose told him, "And when he did, he had forgotten the necklace was in his pocket. I'm surprised it didn't fall out in all the chaos. Running, climbing, and going underwater, it stayed in my pocket. As if it was destined to be with me."

"That thing is worth a fortune, don't you think?" Jack asked.

"Probably, yes. I've considered selling it. I'm rather conflicted, honestly. It was given to me by a man I did not much care for... but you gave it a special meaning to me," She laughed a little, "I only wish I didn't lose my engagement ring. That would have been easier to sell off."

"Cal completely forgot about it?"

"I doubt he's even thought of it," Rose shrugged, "He's got much bigger fish to fry."

"We should do the picture again," Jack said.

"You just want to see me naked," Rose laughed, nudging his shoulder.

"For the sake of art, Rose!" Jack busted out laughing. She joined in, falling against him. Jack accidentally tipped their drink over it and splattered into the ocean, making the couple laugh even harder. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her in close, "But yes, I just want to see you naked."

"You're my soul mate, for sure," Rose grinned, her face red from laughter.


	27. New Found Friends

Chapter Twenty-Seven

_April 28th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Dusk was breaking across the city as Jack and Rose climbed the stairs to Annette's apartment. They decided it'd be best to go home and start working on dinner, in case Annette came home hungry. Rose hoped she was having a good time, but also hoped she would get to meet her secret-somebody soon. Rose pulled the apartment key out from the small pocket on her waist band but paused when she saw a piece of paper shoehorned into the door. She pulled it free, glancing to Jack quizzicaly as she unfolded it.

_1405 Avenue B, Apt 201._  
_ Hello Rose, it's your mother. I wanted to let you know I am departing New York City today by train, back to Philidelphia. There are matters I must attend to. I feel I am not a person of interest in Caledon's court case, but I will remain updated. If you must call or write, you know how to find me. Please, remember what we talked about. A new leaf has turned over and I'm actually starting to get excited about the future yet again, as I hope you are, too. I think things will be okay, afterall. Nathan has gracefully paid for all the cancellations for the wedding and I believe our business with the Hockley's is just about over. I'll write when I can. Please, tell me if you are moving addresses so I know where to send my letters. Forever yours, your mother._

Rose stared at her mother's loop handwriting, smiling as she looked at the slip of paper. Never in her life had she felt so close to her mother, it nearly felt like a dream.

"Everything okay?" Jack asked.

"Yes," Rose lowered the piece of paper, "Better than okay, Jack," She reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze, "I really think everything is going to be okay."

...

Ethan packed everything back into his briefcase and stood up, "Well, Caledon, I think we've made great progress. I'll speak with the district attorney and work on getting us an expedited hearing. I am feeling rather confident."

Cal was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes trained downwards. Ethan shuffled his feet back and forth, searching for words to create any kind of a spark of human life in Cal.

"I'm not speaking as just your attorney, but I think you have a good shot here," Ethan told him, swinging his briefcase back and forth, "What you told me was rather compelling, I have it all written down. I really think we should play on the _Titanic _chord very hard. You're a victim of a chain of events here. You're expected to be some prodigal son, you've lost more than any man in two weeks time. There's a justification for everything, I think. It's the whole reason I'm a lawyer."

Cal slowly lifted his eyes, "What about getting me out here? How can I be expected to be fresh faced and bushy-tailed for the hearing when I'm confined in this dank cage? I only get to shower every other day, the food is tasteless. Everything echoes. I can't get a decent night's sleep."

"Well, uh..." Ethan glanced around sheepishly at Cal's pathetic living quarters. Only a bed, two stools, and a toilet that hadn't been scrubbed since the jail had been constructed, "Sorry to say, but there's two reasons for this predicament."

Cal sighed as he felt the impending doom of his seedy ways.

"One, your father specifically stated he wanted you to stay here for the time being. I guess, uh, he doesn't have anywhere for you to go right now."

_Lies._

"And two, sorry to say, but this jail cell will keep you exactly how I want you for the hearing."

"Oh? And how's that?" Cal smiled darkly, "You want me to appear to be a washed-up, burned-out, waste of a man, is that right? You want to convince the jury that I'm nothing more than a pathetic man, at his wits end. That I had no other choice, right?"

"Well, you said it, not me," Ethan raised his hands.

"What about my image?" Cal stood up now, "The journalists will have a field day picking me apart, Mr. Polacki. If I appear sleep-deprived and dirty, they won't even care about the case. My reputation is on the line here. I'd be a fool to go in, acting like I feel sorry for myself. I am a powerful business man. I have expectations to meet."

"Caledon, you're being tried on attempted murder, discharging a gun in a government-owned building, and not to mention, I'm getting all your little drug charges to slide under the radar," Ethan shook his head pensively, "Your image is the last thing you should be concerned about. Besides, it's toast now. I'm guessing you've been spared of seeing the field day the journalists have already had in regards to speculations as to why you did it. As your lawyer, I'm advising you that there are bigger things to focus on," Ethan then put on a friendly smile, giving Cal's arm a pat, "I'll speak with your father about bailing you out a few days before the court case. We are going to need to get you a nice suit, anyway. Maybe brush your teeth and comb your hair a bit."

Cal ground his teeth together, looking away from Ethan, "When will you be back?"

"If all goes well with the board tomorrow morning, then by the afternoon, at least," Ethan told him, "I'm hoping we can get you on the schedule in early May."

Cal felt nothing but dread inside of him.

...

The jazz station was on, as usual, as Jack stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower. He went down the hallway towards the music and rounded the corner. He felt a grin come across his face. Jack crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the archway of the kitchen, watching the scene in front of him. He engraved it all into his mind, hoping to recreate it on paper one day.

In front of him was Rose, who was oblivious to his presence. The music was up loud enough to drown everything out around her. She had changed into a house-dress. It was a pale pink and ran straight down. It still did justice to her wonderful body. She had her red hair piled carelessly atop her head in a messy bun. She was standing over the stove, stirring a spoon in a large pot with a bubbling stew. She was dancing wildly, as well. Some loose strands fell from her mountain of hair as she jaunted her hips back and forth, bobbing her head with the beat of the clashing cymbals. Her arms gracefully moved back and forth as she cooked to the rhythm. Still dancing, she reached for the salt, dashing some into the stew in time with the saxophone wailing out. She turned towards the island to reach for a cutting board and stopped dead in her tracks, like a deer in the headlights, when she realized Jack had been watching her for quite some time.

With burning cheeks, she turned the volume down on the radio, "Hey. I thought you were still in the bathroom."

"I don't have a lot of hair," Jack laughed, raking his damp hair from his bold eyebrows, "It doesn't take me very long to get clean."

"How long have you been standing there?" She asked, grabbing the cutting board and a knife to distract herself from her embarrassment.

"Long enough to know you got some moves," Jack gave her his signature boyish grin, "Where'd you learn to dance like that? They certainly didn't teach you that in finishing school."

Rose laughed, her embarrassment falling to the wayside. She had a huge smile on her face as she chopped the onions in front of her, "I don't know. Jazz music makes me move a certain way."

"I oughta take you out dancing, huh?" Jack seated himself in a stool at the island and began arranging his art supplies in front of him. His picture was nothing but light sketches with long lines crossing the page to keep his perspective in check.

"Gosh, never do that," Rose wrinkled her nose at the thought.

Just then, a key went into the front door and flicked the lock over. Annette walked in first with a smile on her face. She then turned and waved her hand out the door. Over the threshold came another girl. She had dark black hair that was braided thickly down her back. She had a fair complexion and light brown eyes. She was wearing a simple green cotton dress with white stockings and short black boots. She looked around shyly and then to the couple in the kitchen. Annette ushered her all the way in and closed the door.

"Hi everyone," Annette grinned, "Liz, this is my roommate, Rose, and her beau, Jack."

"Hi, Liz!" Rose wiped her hands on a linen napkin and came winding around the island with the biggest smile on her face. She extended her hand out to the quiet dark haired woman, "It's so nice to meet you!"

"Likewise," Liz said with an accent Rose couldn't quite place. Liz then exchanged a handshake with Jack.

"Rose, are you cooking?" Annette asked, setting her purse on the island and going to hover over the pot. She took a small sniff and moaned, "Oh, that smells so good! What is this?"

"Whenever my grandmother visited, she insisted on this meal," Rose said, joining Annette in the kitchen, "It's an old DeWitt Bukater recipe passed down through the generations, leading all the way back to my ancestors in Europe. It's a sausage and cheese stew with many herbs, vegetables, and peppers to give it a nice warm taste. It's one of my own favorites."

"Mmm, how much longer until it's done?" Annette asked with bright eyes.

"Maybe another hour or so. I like to give the sausage time to really infuse it's juices into the cheese stew," Rose gave it another curt stir, "Are you two hungry?" Annette looked to Liz.

"I could stand to eat," Liz replied, "If it still has another hour, that's fine."

Jack had reseated himself back at the island and glanced over at Liz, "If I'm not mistakin'... are you from Austria?"

Liz seemed surprised, "Yes, Salzburg."

"Oh, yeah," Jack nodded, "Right there on the border of Germany, right?"

Liz smiled now, displaying perfect teeth. She looked to Rose and Annette, chuckling, "I like him already," This also made Rose and Annette laugh.

"I visited Salzburg once," Jack told her, "It's a goregous town. All the mountains surrounding it, phew, is it peaceful. It was the perfect place to relax."

"Are you an artist?" Liz asked, sitting in the stool beside him and peering over his arm at his paper, "It sure looks like you're one. Salzburg has a very lively art community in it."

"I'm not an artist," Jack laughed sheepishly, "I simply dabble."

"This looks like it's shaping up rather well," Liz said, "I can't quite tell what it is, but you have the proper techniques. Did you by chance study at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna?"

"Me? School?" Jack grinned, looking at his paper, "No, never. I could barely complete the basics in my own childhood. It's a nice assumption of me, but I'm uneducated as uneducated can get."

"Well, you sure know your geography," Liz shrugged.

"Jack's just being modest," Rose said over her shoulder, "He's smarter than me."

"Oh, God, not even close," Jack shook his head, making the women laugh.

"You should listen to Liz, Jack," Annette said, wagging her finger at him, "She is an enrollment administrator for the University of the City of New York."

"Really now?" Jack arched his eyebrows.

"I, too, dabble in the arts and education," Liz smiled.

"Well, I like her already, too!" Jack declared.


	28. A Good Day and A Bad Day

Chapter Twenty-Eight

_May 1st, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose and Annette walked along the sidewalk that morning in their matching uniforms. The hospital had re-opened. They were arriving early to get all the equipment, medicines, and perscriptions in order before the North New York Hospital began sending patients to them in waves. Rose had her hands in the pockets of her dress as they waited at a corner for the indication to cross. Annette peered down the sidewalk ahead. The two women crossed and began on the final stretch for the hospital. Annette clucked her tongue as they approached.

"The front doors are still broken from the police barging in," She shook her head, "That's not very professional."

Rose and Annette paused to examine the doors that were hanging crooked off the hinges, which had been snapped in half. Due to the sheer force of the doors flying open, one of the windows for the lobby was busted out and an additional one was cracked. Rose looked to her shoes, shifting back and forth on the small glass shards littered everywhere.

"I'm guessing we will get this cleaned up before they arrive," Rose said, kicking the glass around. When they entered the lobby, Rose felt a shiver climb up her spine. The police hadn't touched a thing. Very few employees were wandering the halls. The few that had showed up weren't even sure where to start. The hospital was arranged how it was during the frenzied panic. Chairs were scraped all over the floor in a variety of manners. Many were overturned to be used as makeshift shields. The sliding glass pane for the receptionist window had a bullet through it. Rose's eyes gazed upwards to pick out two more gunshot holes through the wall. Despite no one dying, the hospital looked to be a nightmarish war zone. The receptionist area was covered in papers where the bullet travelled through the bookshelf in the back. There was dust and crumbling of dry wall along the floorboards.

Annette flipped a chair upright, putting her hands on her hips. She glanced to Rose and the women continued into the main hallway, as far as the confrontation had carried. There was blood splattered against the lower wall and on the floor. Rose knew it was Jack's blood from when he had taken the brunt of a pistol whip. Rose walked to the door to enter the receptionist area. She pulled the door forward to see Ellen had bursted out so quickly, the brass door knob had punched a hole in the wall. Rose inspected the bookshelf to see the bullet that had struck the files had destroyed many logs and health information. She sighed, kicking the paper around on the floor. Annette came to the door way, gripping it.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm just..." Rose exhaled, nearly irritated, "I can't believe he would do this, Annette."

"I'm surprised the Board of Doctor's is allowing us to operate in here. It's clearly still a police zone," Annette shook her head, walking to the desk and looking out to the lobby through the bullet hole, that had caused a spider web crack in the pane, "It's worse than how I remember."

Rose felt tears spring to her eyes in the next moment. She took a deep breath and turned away from Annette to block her from seeing her onslaught of emotion. Rose looked to the bookshelf with glassy eyes, towards the gaping hole the bullet had left. She brought her hand to her trembling lips, trying her best to qualm herself, but a sob ripped up her throat.

"Rose?" Annette was at her side in an instant, "Why don't you sit down?" Annette guided her to the empty desk chair and seated her, kneeling in front of her and resting her hands on Rose's knees, "What is it? Are you alright?"

"I..." Rose furiously tried to wipe the tears away but they continued. She felt the Rose of the Past creeping back up on her. One that was fragile and hurt by everything. One that more than anything wanted the floor to swallow her back up, "I'm not okay..." She finally said with a shaky voice.

"What can I do to help? Please, tell me," Annette looked so distressed.

"You could build me a time machine," Rose said, still rubbing her red eyes, "I almost wish he would have just killed me, Annette, right there, while I was on my knees."

"What?!" Annette grounded her teeth together, "How could you say that, Rose?!"

"If he would have killed me, there would be no pending court date!" Rose burst out as another wave of tears poured from her eyes, "Everyone would have gotten justice. They would have seen me splattered all over the walls and would have just taken him away, locked him in the darkest cell, never to see light again," Rose hunched her shoulders and croaked, "Everyone who was here that day would have been served justice, knowing a man who had scarred them would never walk the planet again. But now, because no one got hurt, he has a chance, Annette."

"He doesn't have a chance, Rose, he's toast," Annette said firmly, her dark eyebrows knitted together. She gripped Rose's knees and shook her head, "We will be given justice, Rose. He's not going to weasel out of this. We've discussed this before."

"I know, I know," Rose's voice was so pinched, "It's just... walking in here and seeing what he did... it can't help but make me doubt our power over him."

"Why don't you go home and rest with Jack? That would make you feel better," Annette said, "You can come back to work after we-"

"No," Rose said firmly, lifting her puffy eyes to look at Annette, "I want to stay and help."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Annette asked.

"Yes, I have to stay and work, Annette."

Annette glanced towards the broken window pane one last time before nodding, "Okay. I'll get you a broom. How about you get all that glass out of the door way?"

...

Jack stood absolutely still on the sidewalk, cocking his head backwards to look at the tall arching iron-wrought gate. He followed each letter that hung over the sidewalk. UNIVERSITY OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK. Slowly, he walked beneath it, expecting it to transport him to an entirely new planet. He looked around, distracted by everything. At the end of the long stretch of sidewalk was a magnificently tall and wide building, capable of taking up nearly an entire city block, done in a beautiful gothic architecture. Spreading out before it was a lucious green lawn with large trees sporadically cropping up everywhere. There were many people out and about. Several groups of people were sitting all over the lawn and occupying benches. People walked past Jack hurriedly, backpacks on and books cluttered in their arms.

Jack nearly did a three-sixty trying to take in his surroundings. There were marble statues lining the sidewalk. He zig-zagged back and forth to read the plaque and inspect the art. Voices caught his attention and he watched a boy read from a book of poems to a group of students sitting in a circle around him. Jack's grin was ear to ear as he continued further on to the campus. He saw a group of students sketching in portfolio, a large pile of art supplies piled between them. He saw people simply chatting, leaned up against tree trunks, sharing snacks with each other. There was so much life, so much learning, so much dedication concentrated in the one city block.

Jack walked up the grand staircase, weaving around students who lounged on the warm stairs, reading, writing frivously, or simply taking a break. He pushed the glass door open slowly. It was silent as it sailed forward into the lobby. There were large marble pillars reaching upwards to the ceilings, which Jack guessed were nearly twenty-feet high. The furniture was modern with the prettiest designs and most intricate wood frames. Everything echoed, yet nothing disturbed him. Jack was simply in awe as he walked past a small café where many students had a light salad or sandwich with a cup of coffee between classes. There were more study groups set up inside, occupying nearly all the clusters of furniture designed for social ventures. Towards the back of the amazing lobby was a large slope in the ceiling leading backwards to hallways where he assumed offices and classrooms were. But he stopped to gawk at the sloping ceiling. There was scaffolding set up against the far left corner and a student was sitting criss cross on top. He was wearing overalls that were splattered in paint, a pallette balanced on his knee. He had gotten maybe four feet out from the corner of the wall with a magnificently bright mural of all kinds of colors. Jack was amazed he was able to even mix the paint consistently to get such eye-catching colors. Jack watched him for nearly three minutes. People brushed past him, but he never took his eyes off the man painting the mural.

"Jack?" His name echoed across the lobby. He looked to his right to see Liz approaching him, wearing a conservative dark brown lacy dress. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see him. Her thick black braid waved back and forth as she crossed to him, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hey, Liz," He greeted nonchalantly, rubbing the nape of his neck, "I just wanted to come by and see the university. I've never been here before."

"Really?" Liz sounded surprised, "Someone as talented as you? You would thrive in an environment like this."

"I've already fallen in love with it," Jack glanced around and then looked back up to the man on the scaffolding.

"That's Henry Weisler," Liz grinned, "Up there, painting the mural. Talented artist. He graduated two years ago. Now he teaches painting classes part time and devotes a lot of time to leading student art-projects to liven up the campus."

"Art makes everything better," Jack nodded, watching him put a stroke of yellow on the wall.

"Why don't I show you around? I could let you see a few classes, show you the library, the works," Liz gripped his arm, "I do lots of tours for prospective students. I'll do the whole process with you. What do you say?"

Jack looked to Liz and shrugged lightly, "Oh, no... you don't need to waste your time on me. I'm not really what they call student material. I love the campus, but I doubt I'd fit in."

"Nonsense!" Liz laughed, showing off her pearly teeth, "Now come! Let's start back outside. That's what we call our student-hub. Let me show you around. Who knows, you might fall in love and never want to leave. I believe you'd be a fine addition to the student body and I can persuade anyone to think so, too!"

...

By noon, Rose had to take a break in the employee room. She seated herself at the table with a cup of piping hot coffee. She undid the pins in her hair to allow the curls to fall free. Rose rubbed her eyes deeply and sighed when she noticed she had dribbles of blood dried on the sleeve of her uniform. It had been quite a day. The patients were coming in waves faster than what they could handle, but the North New York Hospital was simply overrun and trying to relieve themselves. Rose pensively took a sip of her coffee, raking her hand through her curls and slouching against the table.

What a day it had been, indeed. Rose felt overrun by emotions, standing back in the same place she had stared down the barrel of a gun. Rose, in that moment, hated Cal more than anything. Before, she had always simply been exasperated by him, but now, she felt a searing hatred deep in the pit of her stomach. This was her place of work, her dream job. Here, she actually had a role, a place to belong, something to do. But Cal had come through and made it nothing more than a place that reminded her of all the things she was scared of.

"You goddamn bastard..." She whispered to herself.

Rose leaned back in her seat and it creaked slightly. She looked around the abrasively white room and heaved a sigh. She only had five more hours of work, she kept telling herself it would pass quickly. Then she could go home, take a warm bath, and read a book until she fell asleep and forgot the whole day. Rose was hopeful that when the hospital was fully repaired, she would begin to feel much better. Atleast, that's what she wanted to happen. Rose was tired of feeling scared, tired of feeling hopeless. Was it too much to ask for to have some control in her own life?

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Annette came through. Behind her, Rose saw Detective Williams and Detective Long in their police windbreakers standing in the hallway. Annette gestured for them to come in and she shut the door behind them. Rose sighed, lowering her eyes to her coffee.

"Good afternoon, Miss DeWitt Bukater," Detective William greeted, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Rose replied, lifting her eyes, "What can I do for you?"

"We just came to give you an update," Long said, looking around the dull break room, "Hockley's lawyer has spoken with the DA, we have dates set. We're just here to serve you a subpeona," He rustled on the inside of his jacket for a few moments and held an envelope out to Rose. She stared at it for just a moment before she took it into her hands and ripped it open, withdrawing a piece of paper that was tri-folded.

"May 10th," Rose murmered as she read over it.

"You're still willing to testify, right?" Williams asked, placing his hands on his hips, "We really need you, Miss DeWitt Bukater. Hockley's lawyer is none other than Ethan Polacki. He's a lowlife, but a nuisance on the courts of New York City. Mr. Polacki is a slick talker. He's got a good track record in regards to clients. He's been known to interpret laws differently and persuade other's to see his reasoning for it. We feel confident we can beat him with you testifying."

"I'll testify," Rose assured them, setting the letter on the table and returning to her coffee, "I just want him gone, Detectives."

"We're glad you feel that way," Long nodded, "If you come to the police station at nine that morning, Williams and I will take you to the court case under protection. And we'll be sure to keep the hound dog journalists at bay as much as we can."

"I don't want to be in the papers."

"They already have your name," Williams told her, "But we'll do our best to be sure they don't try to ask you questions. We want to give those journalists as little to write about you as possible."

Rose let out another sigh as she drank her coffee, "Thank you, Detectives."

"Okay, I have a question," Annette piped up, catching Williams' and Long's attention, "When are we going to get the lobby of the hospital fixed? The police certainly can't expect us to make our patients wait in a room with busted out windows and bullet holes."

"That's a whole other department, ma'am," Williams answered, "You can fill out a complaint for the New York Police who responded on scene. That was Unit 66. Long and I are interrogaters. We don't respond on scene."

Annette huffed, "Beaucracy at its finest."

"It's the world we live in, ma'am," Williams replied patiently.

Williams and Long let themselves out. Rose tentatively eyed the subpeona before her as she absent-mindedly stirred her coffee. Annette decided to make herself a cup, too, and topped Rose's off in the process. Annette seated herself across from Rose.

"Can you believe this is what it's come down to?" Rose shook her head, "Just a year ago, people thought we were the most darling couple to be had. I wonder what they all think now."

"Well, they _should _be thinking that Cal is a lunatic."

"But they won't," Rose said, looking to Annette. She sighed all over again, "It's hard to explain the world I come from, the people I knew, but everything about them is so backwards. The women are subserviant in my past life, Annette. They're supposed to bow to the man no matter what. I'm sure, in a way, those people blame me. That I'm nothing more than a filandering whore who pushed Cal over the edge. And, who knows," Rose shrugged, "Maybe I am."

"Rose, I don't like this funk you're in," Annette shook her head, "I miss your cheerful self," Annette reached across the table to grip her wrist, "You've been through so much, your feelings are justified, I just... I want more for you. You deserve happiness."

Rose gave her a lop-sided grin and looked down at her black coffee which was as pitch as dark.

"When this is all over, maybe you should think about getting out of here."

Rose looked up at Annette now, "Out of New York City?"

"Yes," Annette nodded, "You should go away for awhile and clear your head. You can be nurse anywhere, Rose. You deserve to go somewhere no one knows your name or what's happened to you. You deserve a chance at a happy life."

"I don't know," Rose shrugged, "I don't know what to do with myself, Annette."

"Just think about it," Annette said, standing up, "The world is waiting for you, Rose."

...

Jack and Liz quietly slid through a door to stand in the back of a classroom. The room was large with multiple tiers stacking up for desks, which were filled with students intently watching the chalkboard where the professor was writing _Shakespear. _He turned back to the class, pressing his dusty hands to the board.

"This man I expect you to know everything about. We will be reading many of his works, interpreting his words, getting inside his head," The professor told the silent class. He looked around for a moment before he began pacing, "Shakespear was ahead of his time when he was a playwright. And he did more than just put on dramas and entertain people. He changed the world of literature as we know it. We all know the classic love story of Romeo and Juliet. I'd say we are all rather familiar with a Mid-Summer's Night. But in this class, we are going to so deeply understand everything that you're going to feel like you watched one of his dramas in England yourself. It was not long ago..."

Liz ushered Jack back out the door and they stepped into the hallway. That was the fourth class he had caught a snippet of so far. Liz guided Jack around the corner, "Let's go check out the art department. I saved your favorite for last," She told him with a grin, "Today, there's a charcoal class drawing from life."

"Okay, now we're talkin'," Jack nodded, "I think I'm actually starting to fall in love with this place like you said, Liz. There's something wonderful about the devotion in this campus. I like seeing people throw themselves entirely into what they love. It's the whole reason I travelled through Europe to develop my art skills."

"I'd say you already have a head start," Liz replied, "Not many of our students have had opportunities like that. I can't imagine the wonderful things you discovered on your journey."

"Yeah, it was all great," Jack shrugged, "I think the best part of it all was that it lead to Rose."

The couple stopped walking, standing off to the side of the hallway, "I can tell you love her."

"I do," Jack nodded, "More than anything."

"You're a good man, Jack Dawson," Liz smiled up at him, "Wouldn't it be even more wonderful if you furthered your ventures of art by going to school? Your degree would give you so many more opportunities."

"I just don't know," Jack shrugged, "Like I said, I never did well in school as a kid."

"That's because primary schools are all one-size-fits-all when it comes to education," Liz explained, gesturing widely with her arms, "At university, you study what interests you. You decide what's important to learn about. There are a few requirements when it comes to classes, but ultimately, you are in control of your education. I personally believe you would thrive here. Especially in the art department. I have a feeling Henry Weisler would adore you greatly."

"I'm still on the fence."

"That's fine," Liz nodded, "That means you're still considering it. Come on, let me show you that charcoal class."

...

Jack was the first person home to the apartment that evening. He slowly lowered himself on the couch, sighing in the process, while he kicked his feet up on the coffee table. He tilted his head back to look at the overhead light, his mind wandering away from him. All Jack could think about was what he witnessed at the university that day. The art class was drawing a nude woman, splayed on a stool in a seductive way. Just like the art he had done in Paris, the university had captured the essence of what art was about. Being without fear, drawing the world for what it really was, even if it wasn't prim and proper.

Was going to college the right choice for him? Would furthering his education in art really the way to go? He thought about how he could teach other people art with his knowledge. He thought about all the studios that would have a residency for him when they heard he was a graduate of the University of the City of New York. But was Jack cut out for university? He was nothing but a poor orphaned boy from a town no one had ever heard of. Who would ever think he was university material? That he could actually be a student?

Just then, the door opened and Annette and Rose entered. The first thing Jack noticed was the blood on Rose's uniform. He was just standing up to greet them, but Rose steamed past everyone, straight down the hallway. They heard the bathroom door shut and a few moments later, the water turned on. Jack was standing now, his hands sheepishly dug into his pockets. With arched eyebrows he looked to Annette.

"She's had... a very rough day," Annette shrugged, hanging her purse up on a hook by the door, "How was your day?" She asked as she went to the kitchen and poured them both a glass of apple juice. Jack followed her to the kitchen island.

"Is Rose OK?" He asked.

"Oh, yeah, fine physically," Annette said with her back to him as she poured the juice, "I think it was just emotionally draining," She turned and handed Jack his glass, "The hospital was still in ruins, left exactly how it was from the whole catastrophe. I think it just greatly upset her. Oh, and she got her subpeona for Cal's court date. It's May 10th."

Jack looked longingly down the hallway where Rose had disappeared. The water was still running, so he assumed she was taking a bath. He more than anything wanted to go in there and massage her shoulders while she soaked, listen to her vent. But he knew she needed space and if she wanted to talk about it, she would. He simply had to give her time.

Rose would come to him. She always did.


	29. Acceptance

Chapter Twenty-Nine

_May 1st, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

When Rose exited the bathroom, she heard the clatter of dishes and smelled something sizzling on the stove top. Jack and Annette's voices drifted from the kitchen down the hallway. Rose felt rather embarrassed. She had simply charged through the door and straight behind another without even so much as giving Jack a glance. She felt much better after a long soak in the tub, though. She tied the sash to her robe shut as she went down the hallway and came to stood in the archway to the kitchen. The jazz station was on quietly in the background. Jack's back was to her as he gave the pan on the stove a toss. Annette was pulling dishes down from the cupboard and smiled, as she was the first to spot Rose.

"Hey, you," She said, setting three dishes on the island, "Feeling any better?"

"Yes," Rose nodded, entering the kitchen fully now. Jack turned to look at her and offered her a large grin, which made butterflies flutter in her stomach, "I'm sorry I was so moody earlier."

"It was a tough day, I get it," Annette told her as she grabbed napkins and silverware.

"Why don't you sit down? Dinner's almost ready," Jack pulled a stool out for her. Rose felt a smile creep across her face and she seated herself. Jack put his hands on her shoulders and dipped down, placing a kiss on her lips, "Anything you want to talk about?"

"I just... hope they fix the hospital soon," Rose said, her eyes trained on the gleaming plate in front of her. There were tiny little rosebuds hand painted along the rim, "It's so ugly with all the broken glass. Even after rearranging and taking the doors off the hinge, it still looks so... so ghostly," She nearly shivered at the thought.

"I agree," Annette said, folding the napkins in half and polishing the forks, "Not to mention how unprofessional it seems. We are the central hospital. We're supposed to be the best one."

"Why don't you sit down, too, Annette?" Jack suggested from the stove, "I'll serve you two."

"Oh, such a gentleman," Annette laughed, easing into a stool across from Rose, "I think Dr. Rosenberg said a cleaning crew was coming in early tomorrow morning to finish the repairs. Dry wall, new paint, new windows, the works."

"Good," Rose nodded, "We'll fix the hospital and then we'll lock Cal away forever."

"I love to hear that fire in your voice," Jack was grinning as he turned towards them with a steaming pot of sticky white rice. He began distributing it between all the plates, "Annette and I will be there with you the whole time. Just keep your eyes on us."

"I don't think I'm scared of him, anymore," Rose lifted her eyes to the side of Jack's face as he served Annette her rice, "He's powerless now. I used to think he was invincible but... I guess no one is above the law," She shook her head.

"You're right," Jack turned his blue eyes on her, "Nobody is," Jack set the pot on the stove and then grabbed the pan, distributing pieces of chicken on top of the rice to everyone's plate. He then seated himself, "Okay... now, I haven't cooked in a long time. I haven't had a kitchen to use for years, to be honest. Let me know if this is edible. If not, I'll swing around the corner to the diner for some hamburgers."

Both Rose and Annette laughed in unison.

"This looks great, Jack," Annette said, picking her fork up with a big grin, "I didn't even know men knew how to cook. What a revelation."

"I was always helpin' my mom out in the kitchen when I was a kid," Jack was smiling as he speared a piece of chicken on his fork, "I was kind of a momma's boy. Well, at least that's what the boys in the school yard would call me."

"Where did you grow up?" Annette asked.

"Chippewa Falls," Jack said. He then laughed when he saw Annette's perplexed expression, "I wouldn't doubt you've never heard of it. It's a tiny little town in the mountains of Wisconsin."

"Do your parents still live there?"

Rose's eyes darted to Jack's face. His smile never wavered, "No, actually. They passed away when I was... I think I was twelve."

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry," Annette shook her head, "I shouldn't be so nosy."

"No, it's fine," Jack replied, "I've had a lot of time to come to terms with it."

"I'd say being a momma's boy paid off," Rose said after a sip of water, "The food is delicious, Jack. Thank you."

...

The crickets outside were chirping loudly, eager to perform in the nighttime orchestra. Rose slid the glass door open in Annette's bedroom and passed through the silky curtains, stepping out onto the balcony. She scraped up the wicker chair in the corner and seated herself, letting out a long sigh as she did so. She looked over the quiet city, admiring the stars, and soaking in the cool evening. Today felt like the longest day of her life, in a way, but she knew May 10th would only be longer. Rose looked towards her lap and opened the package laying in her lap, placing a cigarette between her lips.

Rose inhaled deeply, closing her eyes at the same time. In that moment, she wondered where her life was headed. With Cal locked away, would she only grow stronger? More free? More unafraid? Was it really Cal holding it back? Rose slowly released the smoke from her mouth, gazing up at the twinkling stars. She tapped the ash off the end and paused when she saw that blinking star again. She almost smiled as she found herself mesmerized by it.

Just then, the glass door slid open and Jack stumbled through the curtains, flinging his arm back and forth to come through. It wasn't very graceful and had Rose chuckling. He closed the door and grabbed himself the other chair, pulling it right up next to her. She offered him a cigarette, which he accepted. He hunched forward as he lit it. Rose watched him carefully in the nighttime.

"Got a lot on your mind?" He asked, cocking his bold brows up.

"Yes," Rose sighed, cradling her head in her hand and lazily putting the cigarette in her mouth, "Guess I'm just tired of feeling like a prisoner."

Jack gave her a lop-sided grin, "I'd say you're anything but a prisoner right now, Rose. We have to think on the bright side here. The ball is in your court. I saw your subpeona. The City of New York has your back. They want what you want: for him to be gone, forever. You have much more power than you think."

"I'm scared, Jack," Rose sat up straight, taking in a deep breath, "I'm scared as hell. I have to sit in front of a room of strangers and talk about him. They're going to make me say outloud what he's done to me and I... I just can't bear the thought. There will be journalists drawing unknown conclusions about me, _he _will be sitting there staring at me. It just... it makes me terrified. To know I'll be the turning point in a case New York City is watching closely. It's all over the newspapers. It seems to be the biggest scandal right now and they expect me to participate. I... I don't want to."

"But imagine," Jack leaned closer to her, his voice low and velvety, "you put him away. Your words are the deciding factor for the jury. You'll be hailed a hero. The girl who spoke up. You'll be known as the woman who wouldn't allow herself to be pushed around. Because you're not. I know you're not."

Rose lowered her eyes, the milky moonlight bathing her porcelain complexion, "You might think that... but, society won't. I know how society is, Jack. I'll be seen as insubordinate. Repulsive. I'll be a damned woman. Other women will be ashamed to think I acted rash, harshly, unjustly, because he gave me everything in the world, everything they wanted, and I rejected it."

"Oh, yeah? I want to see any of those women try to be with Cal," Jack shook his head, "They might think they'd be able to do it because there'd be nice dresses, maid service, good food, and parties. But throw Cal into the mix... I don't think they'd even last half as long as you did. He's abrasive. He's obviously repulsive. And you're going to make everyone see that at the court date," Jack's eyebrows had knitted together and nearly quivered. Hi face was rock hard, his voice filled with hatred as he thought about Cal, "You'll pull that silky sheet of deception right off of him, like de-crowning a king. Everyone will see the vile human being he is underneath. They'll see his seediness, they'll understand _everything, _crystal clear, once you speak."

"I just want to forget about all of it," Rose whispered, her shaky hands lowered her cigarette, "I'm not prisoner to him, Jack... I'm prisoner to these memories. I think I should be a certain way and I remember who I used to be. And then I wonder," Rose paused, licking her lips, "Was I ever supposed to be anything more? Or was I born to that life because that's all I was supposed to be?"

"How can you say that?" Jack's face seemed hurt. He reached forward, pressing his calloused palm to her cheek. Her skin radiated beneath his, "In fact, how dare you say that. The Rose I fell in love with was strong enough to do anything. You're a spoiled brat, remember? You want what other's have and you don't. And who are you to tell yourself you're not strong enough?"

Rose's whole body began to quake. Her cigarette bounced to the concrete floor, embers parting in all directions. It rolled towards the balcony with a gentle push from the wind and precariously balanced over the edge and its drop. Rose's glassy eyes stared straight into Jack's serious ones. Their eye contact did not falter. Gently, his thumb traced over her smooth cheekbone. Rose's eyelashes fluttered. She surged forward, pressing her lips to his, bringing her slender fingers up to grip his strong jawbone. She needed him in that moment. Rose only wanted him. Jack's hand ran down her neck, leaving a fire on her skin after it. He placed his hand to her collar bone, his fingers pressing pressure into her shoulder. His other hand came up to grip her arm tenderly. It was a long, breath-taking, passionate kiss beneath the full moon and blinking star. Rose thought about how right Jack felt- how perfect a feeling like this she had was. If Jack _felt _right, then couldn't his words be right, too? In that kiss, Rose suddenly believed everything he had said. He was right all along.

Their lips finally parted, but they kept their hands on each other.

"You'll be there, you promise?" She whispered, their faces only inches apart.

"I wouldn't think to be anywhere else in this world."

...

_May 2nd, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

"College? Really?" Rose's mouth dropped open at the thought. She promptly snapped it shut when she remembered she had breakfast in her mouth. The orange morning light was bleeding into the kitchen as the three housemates prepared themselves for a new day. A big grin came across Rose's face as she swallowed and looked to Jack, "Yes! It's perfect for you! I insist you go!"

"I still don't know," Jack shrugged, "I really can't see myself as an actual art student. I've always been self-taught. We couldn't afford tutors and my school didn't teach us anything about art unless we were reading biographies on Beethoven."

"That's a very different kind of art," Annette said with arched eyebrows.

"Yeah, exactly. I'm not going to be anywhere near as smart as the people there," Jack shook his head, "Trust me when I say I'm uneducated."

"College is not about being the smartest," Rose told him, "College is about studying what you're passionate about. It's not a competition. It's a learning process, a way for everyone to get better. And nobody should ever judge you for trying to improve yourself."

"God, you are full of wisdom," Jack gave her a boyish grin, making her heart leap.

"Wow, Rose, marry me with those words," Annette chuckled.

"Hey, get in line," Jack stuck his tongue out at her.

"You're going, right?" Rose looked at him with intense eyes, "Annette and I don't work today," Rose looked across the island to Annette with a grin, "What do you say? You and I should walk Jack down to Liz's office and sign him up today, right? He'll be right on time for summer classes."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Annette agreed.

"But hold on," Jack held his hands up, "College is for stuffy guys, isn't it? You know, the one's way up the social ladder."

Annette wrinkled her nose and laughed, "Yeah, if you're going to Havard. _You're _going to the University of the City of New York. It's the most well-rounded campus in the nation."

"Eat up!" Rose declared, "We have a big day ahead of us!"

...

Cal's eyes abruptly opened as he was shocked from his sleep. He rubbed his eyes deeply. Yet another dream about her. And he woke up just before he got to touch those soft lips one more time. Cal had a crick in his neck as he rolled over onto his side, letting out a deep sigh.

Cal had never felt so low before in his life. He had no concept of the amount of time that had passed, but he was beginning to suspect eons. He supposed the city simply forgot about him and were just letting him waste away. Cal felt like he was nothing more than garbage. He thought the day after the sinking was devastating, it now wasn't even in the top ten of his worst days. Every detail and moment in that jail cell were the only things on his mind.

"Hockley," An officer whacked his cell door with his baton, "You got visitors. Why don't you get up for once and clean your damn face?"

Cal's crusty eyes only looked to the officer. He did not move. The officer let out a humph and unlocked the doors, gesturing towards people up the hallway. Ethan strolled in with his normal grin on. Behind him was someone else. Nathan Hockley. Cal immediately scrambled to his feet, wiping his face across his sleeve. He raked his hair backwards, popping his back as he stood upright.

"Caledon, hello, hello!" Ethan said, clapping his hands together, "How are you?"

Cal cleared his throat, his eyes darting between Ethan and Nathan, "Fine."

"Good news, we're busting you out today. The court date is coming up next week and we have lots of preparing to do," Ethan told him.

"We're bailing you out to _work, _is that understood?" Nathan said sharply, "There will be no pampering, no drinking, no going out for dinner. There will be no vacationing until this court date has come and passed."

"Understood," Cal replied, stiffly.

"But the good news is, you get to sleep in a real bed tonight," Ethan grinned, "Uh, before we go, did you want to wash your face? The officer's right... you, uh, really need it."

...

Liz's office door opened, tearing her away from reading her document. Rose, Jack, and Annette came through, closing the door after them. Liz came to her feet, smiling, "Hello, everyone," She nodded to each person, "Jack, I see you're back. And with people you love. Can I assume this means you'd like to enroll?"

Jack smiled bashfully, looking between all the women in the room, "Yeah, Liz... I guess it does. I want to learn more about art."

"Wonderful news!" Liz clasped her hands together, "We have a little paperwork to do, you can all pull a seat up to my desk. After this, I say we head to the bar to celebrate."

"Okay, now we're talking," Jack grinned as he sat down, grabbing a pen.


	30. The Puppet Master

Chapter Thirty

_May 4th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Cal looked out the window of the sitting room of their hotel. He could hear the life of the world beneath him, carrying on with their normal days. How Cal longed to have a normal day again. To wake up, have breakfast, read the newspaper, have a cigar, go to work, have a good lunch, smoke another cigar, and come home to drink and read the night away. He missed the polished tiled hallways leading him to his private library and smoking room. He missed his silky sheets that gleamed in the low lighting of his plush bedroom. He missed his favorite canter of brandy and German crystal glasses. He missed everything.

"Are you ever going to stop staring out that damned window?" Nathan barkled from the recliner he was in, his feet kicked up on a velvet ottoman, "Ethan is waiting to hear it!"

Cal pressed his forehead to the cool glass for a moment before he turned to his patiently awaiting lawyer, whose arms swung at his side, unable to remain still for the slightest moment. Cal licked his lips pensively, "Rose had stolen something from me. Something that was mine, paid for with my own money. She had already done so much damage to me, you must understand I was driven to the edge, backed into a corner by her. She had stolen something of significant worth. It's a very rare diamond called the Heart of the Ocean and it belonged to me. And she stole it."

Ethan nodded, tapping his finger to his chin, "Alright, you got it all memorized, but, uh, you need to make it sound more real. Like you're actually saying it. Right now, it sounds like you're still reading it off my steno-pad for the first time."

Cal ground his teeth together and looked at the carpet.

"Do you not like it?" Ethan pressed, taking a step towards him, "Does it not feel natural? By all means, we're trying to do best quality work here, Caledon. Rearrange it if you need to. Say it how you would. Work with me here a little!"

"Rose didn't steal the Heart of the Ocean," Cal sneered, looking up at his lawyer, "I _gave _it to her."

"For Christ's sake," Nathan grumbled, leaning forward and pressing his elbows to his knees. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting out an aggravated sigh, "You can't still be in love with that broad, could you?! This isn't going to work if you have feelings for her," Nathan came to his feet now, "And I don't know why you're stupid enough to even still care for her! Look at what she's done to you, for God's sake. You're a disgusting horrid mess. I'm repulsed just looking at you. Just by the sight of you, I know we're in a losing position, but you're expected to open that stupid mouth of yours? We're even more doomed!"

"Hey, hey," Ethan stepped between the Hockely men, "Maybe we should take a break? I can run down the street, get us some coffee. Hell, we can order room service and eat. That might make everyone feel better, huh?"

"No!" Nathan roared, "There's too much on the line here to not work consistently. We are running out of time. Look at him, Ethan! You're the lawyer. He should be setting off all kinds of bells that he's a courtroom jeopardy!"

"I'm not your puppet!" Cal shouted. Ethan quicklt backpedaled out of the way now, "You can't just order me on what to say. I know what I have to say, dammit."

"Really? Because I don't think you do," Nathan growled, "That cocaine's always melted your brain. You're a junkie, Caledon."

"It was a one-time mistake," Cal flung his arms out at his side, "I'm clean, for the last time!"

"Yeah, for how long?" Nathan grabbed a cigar, puffing on it as he lit it. Cal shook from where he stood, looking at his father with a deep hatred.

Cal exhaled unevenly, his nostrils flaring, "If we're trying to do quality work here, shouldn't we be working on something more belieavable? Tell me one jury member who will believe the Heart of the Ocean was purchased for me. It's a goddamn necklace, it's obvious it was for her!"

Ethan cleared his voice, catching the Hockley men's attention, "I got a plan B."

"Oh, goodie," Cal shook his head, earning a piercing glare from his father.

"Okay, so you don't like the Heart of the Ocean schtick," Ethan shrugged carelessly, "Let's keep it completely honest, then, how about that?"

"How is that helpful?!" Nathan boomed impatiently. Ethan flashed him a confident smile.

"Smear campaign," Ethan held his hands up, as if it was a magical concept. Nathan and Cal only stared at him. Ethan let out a huff, digging his hands into his pockets, "Sounds like this Rose-woman has done a lot of nasty things to put Caledon into this sort of predicament. Let's expand on all of that," Ethan dove for his steno-pad, furiously combing through the pages until he found what he was looking for, giving the pad a curt slap with his hand, "Okay, okay. We start with the things you did for her, in your chilvarous manner," Ethan pointed to Cal.

Cal let out a long huff, leaning down for his cigarette case gleaming on the coffee table. He lit the cigarette and seated himself on an ottoman, hunched forward, as Ethan continued on with his list. Nathan had his arms crossed over his chest, his cigar balanced between his teeth as he listened.

"So, at the beginning of your engagement, you presented Rose with a gold ring, naturally that had a whopping diamond on top of it," Ethan said, looking at his chicken-scratch handwriting, "That cost you a couple hundred dollars. Your family also paid for the engagement party," Ethan threw a finger in Nathan's direction. The business man grunted in reply, "In your first month of engagement, you and Rose went on a trip to Montreal, also funded by your family, that cost quite a lavish amount. That's not to mention the new dresses she had collected, I'm guessing she's a fashion-diva," Ethan shrugged, licking his lips, "Then comes the big parade through Europe in the later half of the year. Twelve countries in just a few months times, phew," Ethan shook his head, "We're talkin' thousands here, gentlemen. The Heart of the Ocean was purchased in France. France was the biggest expense. That's what you get for taking a fashionista to Paris, am I right?" Ethan laughed sheepishly. The Hockley men remained silent. Ethan threw his steno-pad onto the leather lounge seat and turned towards Cal, "So, your first year of engagement was one of being lavish. You took her places she had never been, gave her a comfort her family was never much able to afford. You were the dazzling knight in shining armor who came to her family's rescue just before they felt into the murkiness of the world of bankruptcy. This should hail you as a hero alone!"

"But will it?" Cal asked slowly, smoke trailing from his lips.

"We're not done yet," Ethan grinned, "The _Titanic... _now that's your goldmine right there. For over a year, you treated your fianceé and your future mother-in-law to a cross country luxurious road trip all over Europe. And the sprinkles on top of this sundae was you purchasing first-class tickets to sail back on the most reveried ship of all time. You were taking them onto the most lavish floating piece of art to hit the market. Hell, kings and luminaries didn't even get the chance. And on top of all of that, while you were on the magical cruise of a lifetime, Rose was presented with the Heart of the Ocean. She met elite members of society, she drank bubbly champagne to her hearts content. She was being treated the best and felt the best," Cal felt himself clenching at every mention of her, "And then, boom. Enter the low-life penniless artist. The steerage boy. You had done so much for Rose, she probably thought you were nothing more than a distracted door mat. First opportunity she had, she dipped on you for someone who probably couldn't even afford a bucket of dirt. She crushed your heart, acted as if you didn't have one. She didn't give back the ring, she didn't give back the necklace. She carelessly left everything you ever bought her behind, to sink to the bottom of the ocean. She hurt you deeply. Rose damaged your self-worth, your self-esteem; she disregarded you like you were no one. How could somebody of your caliber be expected to take that lightly, after everything you had done for her? _You're _the knight in shining armor. You saved her, not that steerage boy."

Cal lowered his eyes, _I was going to kill myself... and Jack stopped me._

"Are you done?" Cal asked, lifting his head. Ethan let out a sigh, slumping his shoulders.

"There is no plan C, Caledon," Ethan told him pointedly, "We're either going to beat on the monetary expenses or we're going to pull on some heart strings. Which will it be?"

Cal took his time taking a drag of his cigarette, his dark tired eyes only resting on Ethan, who was impatiently awaiting his response. Slowly, Cal released the smoke from his mouth, a smile twitching in the corner of his lips, "You really have this all wrong."

"Caledon, God dammit," Nathan boomed, turning to his son, "What do you mean he has it wrong!? That was pretty well put-together if you ask me."

Cal stood, looking between both the men, "Neither of you were there. Neither of you have ever seen what went on behind the closed doors of our relationship. In fact, neither of you have the slightest clue as to who Rose really is. The jury will get the sense of her character when she takes the stand to speak to them. And when they see who she really is versus who you're saying she is, the whole damn courtroom will know all three of us are full of shit."

"Oh yeah?" Ethan cocked an eyebrow up, "Then who is Rose, really?"

"Caledon has gone mad," Nathan shook his head, "All the drinking and lack of sleep is really catching up with him. He's delusional. Rose was nothing more than a pretty face. A pretty face that is spoiled by her loose feminine behavior."

Cal's eyes snapped to his father, an anger rising from the pit of his stomach, "Shut up. You don't know a Goddamn thing like you think you do. That's quite the annoying thing about you, Father. You talk about everything like you know all about it. Why don't you shut your mouth for once? Because I know you don't know a thing about her."

"Then who is Rose?!" Ethan demanded, flinging his arms outwards, "Enlighten us, maybe?"

"You paint such a pretty picture with your little story about us, Mr. Polacki," Cal said, carelessly tapping ash onto the carpet, "You make Rose out to be this little innocent coniving girl, fascinated by the life she was born into. But in fact, she was miserable. Always had been. The DeWitt Bukater's were nothing to be jealous of. Even when they had money, they were all nothing more than sad little sacks of shit. Rose was never a fashion-diva. She was never materialistic. She never wanted to be part of any of this. But she was a slave to it, simply because of who her parents were. Nothing meaningful ever grew between us. Even with all the gifts, parties, and vacations, she was never happy. And besides," Cal looked to his father, "those expenses to you were simply drops in the bucket. And the DA will make a point of that with your public expense reports from the business," Cal took a drag of his cigarette again, "She never loved me and she certainly never pretended to either. Rose was so desperate for a change, she attempted suicide aboard the _Titanic_. She was going to jump off the ship, into the icy water. Maybe she would have drowned first... or maybe she would have frozen to death," Cal shrugged cooly, "She didn't care."

"So that's where this Jack Dawson enters the scene?" Ethan asked.

Cal examined his cigarette, nodding, "Yup. She made up a lie about the whole thing, too. She was so frightened," Cal lowered his cigarette, admiring the wallpaper. He was smiling, despite such a terrible story, "Rose said she wanted to see the propellers of the ship and slipped and... that Jack had pulled her back onboard. But really... he talked her out of it," Cal looked to Ethan, "I was not the knight in shining armor. I didn't save Rose. He did."

The three men only looked to each other, silently.

...

"What about this one?" Rose held another portfolio up for Jack, who was knelt down on the ground admiring different pencils. He looked up, shaking his head, "What's wrong with this one?" Rose asked, sticking her hip out. She flipped through the empty canvas papers slowly, then turned the book over in her hands.

"I've never bought a brown portfolio before," Jack told her.

"I think it looks modern and smart," Rose replied, running her hands along the gleaming leather, "You can really see the stitches better. Besides, you're about to start a new magical journey. Shouldn't you take a big risk and buy the brown portfolio instead of the black? What if all the other students have black portfolios, too? How will you know whose is whose?"

Jack grinned, looking back up at Rose, "I think we can just open them and find out."

"Yeah, but if you have the brown one, you can save yourself the time!" Rose held the portfolio out to him, "Come on, it's really well-made. I insist on the brown one."

Jack stood up with a handful of charcoal pencils of different weights. Rose took them from his hand, pushing the portfolio into it. He laughed now, looking to her, "You know... Fabrizio was the only person who ever went art supplies shopping with me. He was never _this _involved. I'm sure you have him laughin' up in Heaven."

"I think Fabrizio would agree with me," Rose told him with a big smile, "Look at it in your hands. Isn't it beautiful? It's pretty sexy looking in my opinion."

"Why are you using adjectives about yourself to describe a book I draw in?" Jack threw his head back and laughed deeply. Rose's heart melted at the sound of it, it was so wonderful, and nearly infectious.

"Come on, I'm serious," Rose gave him a playful nudge, "I think this is the one, Jack."

Jack now took the time to visually inspect it. He looked closely at the spine, admiring the stitching. He opened and closed it a few times, listening to the squeak of the leather rubbing together. He felt the pages beneath his hand before he nodded, looking to Rose, "Alright... I'll get it. If you insist. You know, brown is more expensive."

"My treat," Rose leaned forward, plopping a big kiss on his lips.

...

Annette was the first one home. She let out a long sigh, hanging her purse on the hook by the door and carelessly kicking her work shoes off. Her feet pulsed as she dug her toes into the cushy cream carpet of her living room. She was jealous Rose had had the day off, but she hoped her and Jack had had a nice time together.

Annette headed into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine to unwind for the evening. She pulled a glass down from the cupboard, giving it a good wipe from a cloth hanging over the edge of the wash basin. She filled the glass up, humming to herself all the while. Her eyes then darted to the radio and she gave in to turning on the jazz station. Rose had the right idea. It was very relaxing to listen to. Annette began rounding the kitchen island to head towards her favorite cushy chair in her living room, when something caught her attention.

Slowly, she walked towards the piece of paper and scattered pencils Jack had left behind from that morning. It was a piece he had been working on since he had come home from the hospital. All the times before Annette had seen Jack working on it, it still hadn't become clear to her what his intended final scene would look like. It had meerly been long lines and dark shading in random areas. But as she came to gaze at it from above, she saw two people on the page that she distinctly recognized.

It was Jack and Rose. They were standing at the front of a ship. Annette was guessing the _Titanic_. Her eyes followed the waves in the distance. She could nearly see the ceruluean blue of the sea despite the picture being only done in charcoal. Her eyes then hovered over Jack and Rose. They had their arms outstretched, gazing out to the open horizon before them. Jack's arms were encased around her waist. Rose had a smile of pure happiness, Jack's face pressed up against her's. Annette's eyes looked at the long scarf Rose had trailing behind her. Annette nearly smelled the salty ocean air just by looking at the piece. It was stunning, photo-realistic. And he had done it all from memory.

Annette lifted her head, gazing out the window distantly. She drank some of her wine and seated herself, holding the picture up in front of her, "I don't think Liz understands quite how talented he is..." She shook her head, taking another sip of her wine, her eyes locked on Rose's face.


	31. Hope

Chapter Thirty-One

_May 5th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Jack went out for a walk that morning after Annette and Rose had left for work. He had intended to stay home and draw, but found himself lacking any motivation to do so. He was extremely anxious for college to start, both in a good way and a bad way. As he stepped along the sidewalk with his hands jammed into his pockets, he thought back to his time on the campus. It had been so mesmerizing, so dazzling; it was nearly a call-out of everything he had ever wanted, but never could have. Jack still seriously discounted the thought he could ever be a student. He could hear the schoolhouse teacher, Mrs. Cremshaw's, terrible hooting laughter at the idea that Jack could ever provide for anyone as an unknown artist from an unknown mountain top. He was worried he'd seem uncultured and behind the times of what he considered to be a modern student. He dreaded the idea of being asked about anything, fearful he actually didn't know anything at all.

No one in Jack's family had ever been an artist. They had all been craftsman and day laborers. They had worked with their hands all their life like Jack had, but in a different way. A more accepted way. Jack's hands were not calloused from breaking rocks or smelting iron. He had never broken a sweat, even when drawing small scenes for pennies on boardwalks beneath the blazing sun. His parents had never been unaccepting of Jack's ability and interest in art, but he knew, deep down inside, they worried for him. And some nights, Jack worried for himself as well.

Jack stood on a street corner, waiting to be given the indication to cross. He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. He began to wonder if going to college for art was nothing more than a fantasy dream, completely unrealistic, and a waste of time. Jack had never really had to worry about anyone besides himself, but now, suddenly, he felt a deep obligation to provide for Rose. They needed their own place to live, some new clothes, food on the table. How would he be able to make that happen while he was nothing more than a meager student on a stipend? More than anything, Jack wanted to give her a ring, but it seemed so unattainable, so out of reach.

Jack crossed the street and sighed, knitting his eyebrows together. He wandered aimlessly, weaving in and out of other pedestrians. He glanced towards a car rolling by and sighed all over again. He stopped walking, staring out into the road. Jack then noticed a news stand nearby and decided to take a look to distract his debating mind. There were many articles that did not catch his attention. He certainly wasn't the type to keep up with the stock market. He didn't care for a write up on the repercussions the White Star Liner company was taking. But he paused, his face hardening, when he saw a certain headline.

**HEIR TO WALLSTREET, CALEDON HOCKLEY, IN SHAMBLES**

Jack leaned in closer, very slowly. There was a picture of Cal that looked rather recent. On the right, beside that, was another picture. Jack's heart began hammering in his chest. It was a picture of Cal and Rose on a beach. Rose was wearing a long white lacy robe and holding a frilly parasol. Cal was in casual clothes, as well, his arm looped around Rose's waist. Jack snagged the newspaper off the rack, making it tip back and forth precariously.

_New York City, New York- The press had a field day with Mr. Caledon Hockley, son of Nathan Hockley, and heir to the family stock market business, on May 2nd, when his lawyer, Ethan Polacki, bailed him out of jail, only eight days before his trial, due to start downtown at the New York Courthouse. Mr. Caledon Hockley is accused of firing a gun in the Central New York Hospital on April 25th after a heated dispute with his ex-fianceé, Rose DeWitt Bukater. The police are seeking to charge him with attempted murder. Mr. Caledon Hockley exited jail in poor-fitted clothing, looking rather dishevelled and washed up. He declined to answer any questions from reporters in the area._

_ This is just one of the many disasters Mr. Caledon Hockley has faced this year in 1912. He was aboard the ill-fated Titanic only weeks before and is estimated to having lost nearly ten thousand dollars from the sinking alone. His father's business has also taken a hit from the recent poor exchange on Wallstreet. Nathan Hockley was with his son upon his release and gave this statement: "My son is innocent until proven guilty. We will not partake in slandering or libel against Miss DeWitt Bukater. Everyone knows justice happens under the roof of the courthouse."_

_ Caledon Hockley versus the State of New York is due to begin at nine in the morning on May 10th at the Downtown New York Courthouse. Caledon Hockley is being represented by Ethan Polacki, a lawyer who has worked for Nathan Hockley under the confines of New York state law for nearly eighteen years. It is unclear whether Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater will make an appearance at the court case, and if she does, whether she will have legal representation or not. If you have tips or comments on the case, please contact the New York Police Department, Detective Johnny Williams._

Jack's eyes hovered over the picture of Rose, his teeth ground together, "How _dare _they post her picture in the paper," He seethed beneath his breath, the newspaper crumpling in his grip, "How _dare _they print her name alongside his!"

"'ey, buddy," The newspaper stand attendant looked up from his book, "If you read one more sentence, you're buyin' it."

Jack looked to the man with a face of stone. He re-folded the paper clumsily, jamming it into the rack. It was wrinkled and ruined, unworthy to be bought for a nickel of someone's hard-earned money. Jack stormed away with steam pouring of his ears.

...

That evening, Cal went to a small dank bar on what he considered to be the bad part of town. Ethan and Nathan had gone out for a nice steak dinner and had forgotten about him entirely. Cal finished his drink and ordered another, as the wonderful swimming feeling of being drunk sank into him. Cal never wanted to be sober again. When he was sober, things felt so awful, so unbearable. But when he was drunk, he felt like he could deal with everything.

He withdrew a cigarette from the inside of his coat as the bartender filled his glass up with another round of brandy. Cal clumsily stuttered to get his lighter ablaze. He inhaled deeply as he got the cigarette lit. Cal smiled to himself as he sipped more brandy to nurse his swollen ego. He exhaled slowly, doing his best to cling to the rush he got from the nicotine.

Nearby, across the hazy bar, he noticed a man and woman sitting in a booth. She had her legs across his lap. He was gripping her knee tenderly, rubbing his hand along her arm. They seemed so wrapped up in each other, as if no one else was in the room with them. She gave him a ruby red grin, leaning in closer to whisper sweet-nothings. Cal clucked his tongue, shaking his head.

"Damn fools..." He muttered, rubbing his dry eyes and slumping against the bar. He took another sip of brandy, the smallest bit dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. Cal made no move to wipe his face.

"Hah... I've heard that tone of voice, seen that look of despair," An older man beside Cal said, chuckling as he drank his sweaty beer, "Why, you look like me eight years ago, when my wife, Eleanor, left me. Who broke your heart, partner?"

Cal sighed, looking towards the glinting bottles of liquor stocked behind the bar. He said nothing and refused to look to the man beside him. He felt the old man staring into the side of his face. Cal ground his teeth together and downed his drink in one gulp.

"Let me buy you your next round," The man raised his hand and the bartender reappeared, refilling Cal's glass like it was a never-ending river of brandy. The bartender eyed Cal wearily before going back to his stool to relax. Cal watched the bartender in the low lighting as he settled back in, lifting his newspaper up. Cal saw his own face staring back at him. Cal closed his eyes, rubbing his face yet again and cursing under his breath.

"You're a tall, dark, and mysterious lookin' man," The old guy continued, making Cal sigh, "I find it rather hard to believe a woman could put you in this much despair. If you just combed your hair, shined your shoes, and put a fresh coat on, I'd suspect a new one would just fall into your lap."

"I don't want a new woman," Cal said, his eyes on his dark auburn drink, "I want the one I had."

"Then, by all means, go get her," The man said, "You're too young to be resigned to the bar in defeat, like me."

Cal clenched his fingers around his glass, "It's not that easy."

"Don't say that," The man clucked, "The world's not as complicated as you say."

"Oh, it's not?" Cal looked at him very annoyed, "If it was that easy, wouldn't Eleanor come back to you?"

"It's not a one-size fits all," The man shook his head, "You look like you're light years ahead of where I was when I was your age."

"Yeah, well, it's all a facade," Cal grumbled.

"Look, partner, life is much too short to fall into such a rut. Before you know it, you'll be watching yourself grow old and wrinkly in the reflection of your drink. My grandfather used-"

"If you don't have anything to make me feel better, then I suggest you stop talking," Cal told him stiffly, "I just want to sit here and get drunk in peace. I'm not looking for life advice from some old coot at a bar."

The old man smiled at Cal, his dark brown eyes glinting in the lighting, "Something to feel better, huh? That's all you want? No long term fixes?"

"No, I'm not interested."

"Well, that's all you had to say. I have something for you," He fumbled on the inside of his ratty coat pocket. Cal curiously peered at him over his arm from where he was slumped against the bar. The man glanced towards the distracted bartender for a moment before he held something out towards Cal beneath the bar. Cal's eyes lingered on the contents in the man's palm before he cautiously looked to him, "You've had it before, right? I'm sure you have. Even rich people love it."

"Yeah... I've been around the block," Cal tore his eyes away, looking to his glass.

"You said you wanted something to feel better. Why the hesitation?"

Cal's grip tightened on his glass. So much so, he was half-expecting the shiney glass to explode in his palms. Cal thought about his father in that moment. The way the man talked to him. The way he thought of him. Cal looked back to what the man was offering. It was nearly calling out to him. Cal felt his mind begging for relief from the grief, the distraught, that washed over him. His father already considered him a junkie, didn't expect much from him. Cal glanced towards the doorway and then let out a huff, taking it from the man's hand and stuffing it into his pocket.

"What do you want for it?" Cal asked.

"Nothing. I got more. I can tell you need it, anyway, partner. Consider it a gift from a stranger. One that believes in you."

Cal slowly looked to the man, "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, in fact, I do," The man nodded, "I like your gumption. Gotta admire a man who would do anything to protect what he's got."

"I don't deserve praise," Cal told him, "I've ruined a lot."

"Nonsense," The man smiled, giving Cal a pat on the arm, "You have every right to look out for yourself. Hell, I'd be mad, too. My wife left me 'cause I was a drunk. I respect her decision. But, if she had left me for another man, well, you wouldn't be talking to me. Go on. Get out of here. Have yourself your little treat and feel better about yourself."

Cal finished his drink and stood, steadying himself. He looked to the man and grinned, shaking his hand before leaving. As Cal strode down the dark sidewalk, he began feeling the slightest bit of hope peak in his heart. Maybe he did have a chance. Maybe everything he had done was actually just expected of a man's nature.

For once, Cal assumed his father was doing nothing more than simply overreacting. At least, that's what he told himself as he fumbled to get the small bag of cocaine open and into his body.

...

_May 6th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

When Jack opened his eyes, it was still dark. The sun had not risen yet. He sat up on his elbow from where he slept on the couch. Just across the room, Rose slumbered silently on the other couch against the wall by the front door. She was facing towards him, her face sunken into her pillow, her arm lolled off the edge. Jack could barely make her figure out. He watched as slowly her shoulders rose and fell as she continued on with her dreams.

Jack went into the kitchen and fumbled in the fridge for a glass of orange juice. He seated himself at the island, holding his head in his hand. He hadn't slept very well. His mind was so fixated on what he had seen in the paper. Jack hated the society they lived in. Putting all the dirty laundry out to air on the front page of the newspaper was sickening to him. Rose was innocent in all of this, yet the black print words had dragged her into the dog fight.

How could they blame her for anything? Cal was selfish and greedy. He didn't love Rose. Not like Jack did, anyway. Cal only valued her exterior looks and her overall purpose in his life. Jack chewed on his lip as he swallowed his juice, shaking his head. Cal didn't appreciate Rose's interest in art. He didn't care that she had the know-how to become a medical professional. He was completely oblivious to the person Rose actually was. He was simply wrapped up in his delusional version of her. Jack let out a huff, glancing over his shoulder towards Rose.

Jack went to the living room and eased himself down onto the coffee table between the couches. He stared extensively at Rose. Her eyelids fluttered as she shuffled on the couch, pulling her blanket up to her chin and sinking deeper into her cozy sleep.

"I'm going to protect you," He whispered into the darkness, "No one will ever lay a hand on you again. The journalists will wish they never looked at you, never knew your name. I swear, no one will ever have power over you like you think they used to. It's my promise to you, Rose. You will never be unhappy again. You will never have to worry about this, not another day in your life."

Jack stood, setting his orange juice on the coffee table and went down the hallway to take a shower in preparation for the day. After the bathroom door closed, Rose's eyes fluttered open. She remained still where she was, thinking about the words Jack had just said. She glanced towards the window above her. The first rays of the morning sun were slowly illuminating the world behind the curtains. Rose sat up on her elbow, groggily looking around.

"Jack?" She whispered. But she was all alone. Rose began to wonder if she had simply been dreaming those words moments before, but slowly, her eyes shifted to the glass of orange juice on the coffee table. She heard the creak of the shower and running water drift towards her from the hallway. Rose pulled her blankets back, setting her barefeet on the carpet. She padded quietly towards the bathroom door and pushed it open, blinking rapidly against the bright gas lamp mounted on the wall. She closed the door behind her and pushed the shower curtain aside. Jack's head snapped over his shoulder. He wiped his face of the water and stared at Rose as steam began to fill the room, "I know you will, Jack. Protect me, that is," She told him.

A small smile came across Jack's face. Rose pushed her dress off her shoulders and then stepped into the shower with Jack, drawing the curtain shut. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a big kiss beneath the hot water, "I know we'll be okay, Jack."

Jack's arms tightened around her bare body, holding her close to his. They said nothing more, only huddling close to each other beneath the warm water running over them.


	32. How The Mighty Have Fallen

Chapter Thirty-Two

_May 6th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

When Cal opened his eyes, he realized he had not gone back to his hotel room the night before. He had a raging headache, his lips parched and cracked, desperate for even a drop of water. He was lying in the grass of a park and was not entirely sure he even knew which park he was in. He sat up now and glanced towards the sky, squinting into the light. The sun was high and the world was alive. He had slept nearly all morning, he supposed. Cal rubbed his eyes deeply and came to his feet, staggering, before catching himself against a tree trunk. He decided to find somewhere dimly lit to think his plans out.

He walked for a few blocks, his mind still unable to process where he even was in the never ending city. Cal felt so disassociated with everything that was happening around him. He kept his eyes down, manually telling each part of his body to move. He steered off into a dark and damp alleyway, splashing through a murky puddle. He had grown winded from his walk and seated himself on a crate, pressing his elbows to his knees.

Cal was certain his father was livid. He knew there wasn't an ounce of concern for his safety. Cal reached into his pocket and withdrew his sole prized possession. Still leftover from the night before, he had his favorite thing. The one thing that would always pick him up when nobody else could be bothered to. He glanced towards pedestrians walking by without giving him so much as a second glance his direction. He was jealous of them in that moment. How dearly Cal wanted to lead a normal life but he knew now, at this point, there was no going back. Cal lowered his eyes to the drugs in his palm, eagerly awaiting his consumption. He realized, suddenly, that he didn't care for his old life anymore. He was decided that if Rose wasn't going to be there, it wasn't a life worth living.

"I can do something else..." Cal whispered as he dumped the contents in his hand, dropping the bag to the ground carelessly. He aligned the cocaine perfectly straight in his palm, thoughtfully compacting it all together, "A man is not capable of only one singular thing..." He took his bump, jolting his head back and bonking it on the grimey brick wall behind him. His hands curled tightly, clenching with everything he had. Cal finally opened his eyes again, feeling energized, as if he had had a decent night sleep. He nodded to himself, "I could just... just leave. Right now. No one is here to stop me. If they really wanted me to stay in the area like they said, they would've hired a bodyguard to follow me constantly. Yup, they don't care," Cal came to his feet, turning to face the day carrying on as normal, "Why am I sitting here and waiting for my doom? I can start fresh. A new name, a new history... I can create a whole new person of myself," Cal nodded and walked out onto the street, falling into the normal step of the city-dwellers.

_I could become a jeweler. They make great money. Or... or a banker, yes! _Cal smiled to himself as he turned a sharp corner, not even bothering to think about where his feet could be leading him, _I could forge new papers, new identities. Hell, even work experience! I could become a potter or even an architect! There's nothing and no one stopping me from becoming someone else! Who would question me? There's not a single person on this earth that wants to be Caledon Andrew Hockley anyway! _Cal paused for a moment and glanced up at the pole on the corner, wondering where on earth he really was. He felt he recognized the street names, but he couldn't quite think about where he was.

Cal decided to continue forward down the long stretch of sidewalk. The crowds were thinner here. As he looked around, he tried to decide if he thought it was mainly private office space or if he was heading towards a more industrialized area. But he slowy, he saw a building he recognized. The Central New York Hospital. He slowed his step, mesmerized. He noticed the building was taller than he realized. As he came to the front doors, he saw there were none. The doors he had destroyed were missing, exposed brass hinges glinting in the afternoon sun. The glass was gone, he could see straight into the waiting room, which a couple people occupied.

Cal slowly stepped towards the doorway, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His body began to quake as he walked into the front foyer of the hospital. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, he thought it would give out at any moment. Nobody looked towards him except the receptionist. It was a different woman compared to the last he had seen. The original receptionist was older and had blonde hair with gray roots. This receptionist was much younger with rosy cheeks and a mountain of brown hair piled atop her head. As Cal walked towards the receptionist, the sound of scraping chairs, the shrill screaming of women, and the sound of thundering feet on tile reached his ears. He heard his gun firing, he smelled the unpleasantness of gun powder. It was all crashing down on him, but still, his legs moved without protest, and before he knew it, he was standing at the desk. He gazed behind her to see there were smaller bookcases along the backwall now. And there were stacks of paper atop the bookshelves, begging to be refiled.

"How can I help you, sir?" She asked without hesitation.

Cal looked to her with his glazed red eyes and sputtered, "Is, uh, is Rose... Dawson here?"

"Nurse Dawson?" The receptionist smiled sweetly and reached for a clipboard hung on the wall beside her window. She gave her finger a curt lick, lifting the top page up and inspecting, "Hmmm... yup," She looked towards Cal, "She came on shift about an hour ago. She's probably in the back hallway, in the children's unit."

"May I...?" He asked, rather shakily.

"Are you family?" The receptionist cocked her head to the side, rustling her mountain of hair.

"Yes, family," Cal told her, "Just... just wanted to stop by," He put his best grin on.

"Just follow this hallway and take a right. First left after that, down to the last left," The receptionist told him, "Can you do it?"

"Yes, of course," Cal rubbed his sweaty palms along his wrinkled slacks.

"Go ahead, then," The receptionist put her professional smile back on.

Cal mustered the last of his gumption to smile before he began down the main hallway. It was uncomfortably wide and exposing to Cal, especially because there were so few people for a hallway of its capacity. Cal's eyes darted back and forth to each distraction in the plain environment of the hospital. His shoes clacked against the tile and a feeling of horrid sterility came over him. He didn't know what he was doing. Even worse, he didn't feel like he had control over his own body. Before, he had forced his actions, but now, his muscles has taken over and his brain had no say in the matter. He followed the directions as he remembered them, walking briskly towards the final left on a much more narrow hallway. And when he rounded the corner, the first person he saw was her.

Rose was scribbling on a chart outside a patient's room. She was extremely preoccupied with her task. Cal could tell she was being very detailed and thorough. He remained still, glued to the corner he had just rounded. All he wanted to do was watch her. Her curly red mane was pulled back into a loose ponytail that rest heavily against the nape of her neck. She was wearing a crisp uniform. It was so early in her shift, it hadn't been given a chance to be spoiled. Cal's eyes slowly followed her white stockings that accentuated her curvy legs. She was stunning, even when in the middle of a task. She was angelic. Cal clenched his jaw as she finished writing on the clipboard, gingerly setting it in the basket outside the door. Rose turned to continue with her tasks, when she stopped dead in her tracks upon the sight of Cal.

He looked horrid to her. She could see his blazing red eyes, as swollen as a hornet's nest. She could tell he had lost weight, his cheekbones seemed much sharper. Cal looked like a disaster. Rose gawked at him, trying to conceal any hurt or fear she might have felt.

"Cal...?" She whispered, her body absolutely still.

"Rose, I..." Cal loosely stepped around the corner and she took a few steps back. He sighed, drawing his lips back tightly, "That hurts me more than you will ever know."

Rose's eyes shimmered in the low lighting of the hospital. She looked around hurriedly in the next moment. Quickly, she ushered him into a nearby closet. He staggered over a mop bucket as Rose fumbled to find the light switch. She closed the door quickly behind her, keeping her back to it, gripping the doorknob closely as her only means of escape. Cal kicked the mop bucket to the side and looked around at the room, noticing many bottles of chemicals and cartons of fresh linens. He slowly turned towards Rose, who had a face of stone.

"Why are you here?" She whispered, nearly out of breath.

"I wanted to see you," Cal replied, lamely.

"You and I should be staying very far away from each other," Rose said, her voice steady and hard. It seemed so unlike her. Cal was used to a relenting Rose, even if she had given him an exasperated sigh, it still meant he had gotten his way. This Rose seemed so different. He could sense her alarm, but nothing about her indicated she feared him. Cal began to wonder if it was all only a farce, a little act she could only keep up in small bursts.

"I can't be the only person harboring regrets, Rose," He arched his bold brows at her.

Rose looked away momentarily, her eyes fluttering over a box of gloves, "What do you want, Cal?"

"A chance to just talk to you... look at you," Cal told her, clenching his fists, "I didn't want us to be seeing each other for the first time at the courthouse. That's... that's not how it was meant to be, Rose."

"Oh? And how was it meant to be?" Rose's voice became sharp and demanding. A fire was raging in her eyes; a fire he didn't realize she could kindle on her own.

"It was supposed to be different," Cal's voice was pinched, "You and I were supposed to fall in love, live happily ever after. It's you, Rose. It always has been and it always will be. I love you. I do."

"No you don't," Rose was still whispering, tears were springing to her eyes. As normal, Cal knew her weak spots, "You never loved me. If you did, we wouldn't be in this entire mess."

"Rose," Cal came towards her and she pressed herself against the door, turning her head away from him. He made no attempt to touch her, "you have to understand... you were mine. I had the entire world in my arms and I just let it slip away. I let it all sink to the bottom of the ocean. I'm a fool. You want me to say this, right? I was wrong, Rose. You don't seem to understand I'm a different man now. I value different things. I value _you_, Rose. We would make such a great team, wouldn't we?"

"It's a little late for this," Rose looked at him from the side of her eyes, "You had your chance, Cal. Dozens and dozens of times. How can I really even know it's you talking?" She turned her head towards him robotically, boldly locking eyes, "You're doing drugs again, Cal."

"Do you really think I can live normally with this pain? This regret? I'm a damned fool, Rose. I couldn't stand being sober in this reality. I can only be sober if you'd be with me."

"Bullshit, don't put this on my shoulders," Rose snapped, her entire body quaking, "I'm not the reason you relapsed and you're an idiot for even thinking to accuse me. Do you _really _think I could stay with after everything that had happened? I don't love you. You should leave. I don't think your lawyer would be very pleased to see you talking to me."

Cal was silent. His arms hung pathetically at his side as he looked around the room, as if any of the janitorial items could help him in that moment. Rose's hand was quivering on the door knob. She felt as if she was losing air fast, but she remained where she was, only watching him.

"How did you think this would really play out?" Rose whispered, shaking her head, "Did you think you were going to march in here and walk out with me, holding hands? Have you forgotten everything? You have betrayed me more than you will ever know."

"Then, I want to say goodbye," Cal said, looking directly at her now, "I don't want to be me anymore, Rose."

"Well, too bad," Rose scoffed, eyeing him pensively, "You can't leave New York City, Cal. If you're thinking about it, then... well, you're a coward. Do you know how many people were in this hospital the day you walked in wielding a gun? Do you know just how many people you terrified and scarred? It wasn't just me, Cal."

Cal came closer to her now, lifting his hands to cup her cheeks. Her breathing shallowed and she pressed herself even closer to the door, as if she would simply sink right through the wood. His face was only inches from her.

"Do you remember... when we went to Philidelphia Museum of Art?" Rose said nothing, "You were wearing a sleeveless purple dress because it was such a crisp spring day. You had your hair bundled into a bun on the back of your head. You were so goregous. And you were so mesmerized by the art. I looked at you at all day, more than I did any art in that museum. Because you were the true masterpiece. I loved the way your lips twitched as the painting evoked something deep inside you. It was that day, Rose, I knew I loved you."

"But you didn't," Rose replied softly, "I was nothing more to you than a trophy. The bridge to your success. You needed me, but you didn't want me."

"I was an idiot."

Rose batted his arms away and he took a few steps back, hurt plaguing the inside of his body, "I love Jack. And you can't change that. He's treated me better in every single way you didn't. He believes in me, unlike you. You don't even deserve the courtesy of an explaination from me. I'm going back. Leave me alone."

She harshly shoved the door open, slamming it shut. Rose darted from the hallway, racing all the way back to the break room. She burst in the door, startling two nurses taking a break with cups of coffees. She didn't give them a second glance as she dove for the phone on the counter, praying the operator was fast.

"Please connect me to Ethan Polacki's office."

...

Cal now wandered aimlessly through New York City. Stumbling, his high was wearing away and he knew he had to find a bar next. He had no interest in going home. As he stood on a street corner, he noticed his coat was stained. Carelessly, he shrugged out of it, tossing it on a nearby bench. He then continued on in his wrinkled white shirt.

He walked a few more blocks, his mind only occupied by one thought: Rose. All he could see was her seething anger. How strong she had seemed in that little closet. Her words were so harsh, he almost couldn't believe it. Where had she learned to act like that? Where had she found the courage? Cal shook his head, hitting his hip against a newspaper box, where he saw his and Rose's face. He continued walking, however, uncaring of anything except for the way she had spoken to him. His desire to become a new person had faded. He had no where to go, not a clue about what to do. Was Rose right?

"CALEDON! CALEDON!" He paused, looking around. Cal turned to see a car screeching up to the curb and noticed Ethan was hanging halfway out the window. Ethan piled out of the car, grabbing Cal's arms, "Where have you been?! What in the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What?" Cal asked, his eyes darting over every detail of Ethan's face.

"How could you be so stupid?! Going to talk to Rose? You're jeopardizing everything!" Cal still only looked to his lawyer, completely disassociated. Ethan slapped him across the face, making his mind whirl, "Snap out of it, dammit! You've been missing for over twenty-four hours. What, did you go on a drugs and alcohol binge?! What made you find her?!"

"I love her, Ethan," Tears now welled up in Cal's arms and his shoulder seized with hiccups of sobs. He looked so pathetic in that moment. It was as if he was a ten year old boy with a school yard bully, unable to fight back, unable to help himself, "I just want her back."

"She's not coming back to you!" Ethan roared, flinging his arms out, "Look at you! You're a shrivelling crying mess, withdrawing from drugs. Do you not even care about what's at stake here?!"

"No!" Cal said sharply, tears over flowing from his eyes, "I don't care about anything except for her. I don't care if no one forgives me. I only care about what she thinks."

"Oh, Goddammit," Ethan shook his head, pressing his hands to his hips, "Get in the car. We're going back to the hotel. We have four days to fix this and by God, you're not going to be the client to ruin my reputation. Come on," Ethan roughly grabbed Cal's arm, shoving him into the backseat of the car. He slammed the door after him, telling the driver their destination. Cal slumped into the leather seat, feeling lower every moment. Ethan was fuming, shaking his head, occassionally glancing out the window, "You're seriously an idiot, you know that, right?"

"Yeah... I know," Cal replied miserably.


	33. Prodigal Son

Chapter Thirty-Three

_May 7th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose jolted awake. The apartment was dark. Her body shuddered as she returned to her reality, a nightmarish feeling gripping her, making her cold, as if she was sweating on the inside of her skin. She realized there was an arm slung around her and she cocked her head to see Jack lying beside her, hanging on the edge of the couch. She blinked rapidly, looking around the living room. She noticed the couch he slept on was dishevelled with blankets and crooked pillows.

"Rose..." He stirred, mumbling. His hot breath clung to her cool neck, "Are you OK?"

"Yes, I'm fine," She whispered. She turned to face him. They were only inches apart, "Here, move over. I've made more room for you. What are you doing sleeping on the edge over here?"

Jack rubbed his eyes groggily. It was so dark, she could barely make out his features. Rose's slender fingers clung to his shirt, pulling him as close as physically possible. She needed him desperately in that moment. She was so at ease by his presence. He could so easily blow all her troubles away and make her comfortable.

"You were havin' a nightmare or something," He whispered, opening his eyes fully now, "I couldn't stand to let you sleep by yourself like that," There was a silence. Only the ticking clock in the hallway could be heard, "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Rose bit down on her lip so hard, she tasted the copper of her blood. It reminded her of the turmoil aboard the _Carpathia. _She could recall how desperate she had felt in those moments. She could feel the cold mist of the ocean's storm plaguing her skin.

"Cal came to the hospital yesterday," She replied. Instantly, Jack's body tensed and he suddenly became very alert. He lifted his head.

"What? Are you serious?"

"I've never seen him so low before."

"He seriously just walked straight into the hospital he tried shooting up?" Jack's voice was rock hard, "He's dumber than I thought he was, Christ," Jack pressed his head back into the pillow, rubbing his forehead up against her's, "Are you OK? He... he didn't hurt you, right?"

"He couldn't if he tried," Rose said, shaking her head and rustling her curls, "He's just so... so messed up. Cal's gone off an edge so deep, there's no recovering. Even if he doesn't go to prison, Jack... there's no way he could go on as he is. He'll be dead by the end of the year."

"Well... what did he want?" Jack asked.

Rose paused for a moment, fiddling with Jack's loose white undershirt. She lifted her eyes and he saw the smallest gleam in her pupils in the darkness, "He wants me back. I don't know what he was expecting, honestly. Did he really think I'd just go with him? Ditch this city and forget about everything... _forgive _him for everything?" Rose felt the pressure of tears behind her eyes. Jack was soothingly rubbing his hand along her arms, "He made me feel worthless, Jack."

"It takes a man like Cal losing everything to realize what he had," Jack told her gently, "You're not responsible for what happens to him. You know he's a snake in the grass. He thinks he can wait for the perfect moment to spring on you, but boy, he has no idea of what you're capable of," Jack brought his hand up and cupped her cheek, "He can't do a thing to you, Rose."

"I guess sometimes I just need you to remind me," Rose gripped his wrist tenderly. She smiled at him, which he returned, and she was dazzled all over again by his boyish grin. Every time she looked at him, she felt light as a feather, as if she was seeing Jack for the first time all over again. How lucky, she felt, that his eyes fell on her. That he had been lying on a bench that fateful night. Rose gently tugged him closer, "Do you want to visit the stars?" She whispered.

"Every night," He replied, hungrily reaching for her.

...

"Wake up."

Cal's eyes flew open, his head pounding, as the morning light bathed the sitting room. He had been sleeping on the couch and was close to rolling off of it. He had drool dried in the corner of his mouth. His eyes darted about before they fell on his father and lawyer, who were on the other side of the coffee table with eyes of stone.

"Get up," His father demanded icily.

Cal slowly pulled himself upright, sorely rubbing his neck.

"All the way."

Cal cursed under his breath as he came to his feet. He glanced towards his clothes, self-conscious of the state he was in. He desperately craved a bath, but by the look of Nathan and Ethan, one seemed quite a ways off. Cal glanced fleetingly towards the window, then cautiously back to his father. The anger stewing in his coal-like eyes was disturbing. Cal had never seen him so mad. Nathan came around the coffee table, puffing his chest up as he approached his son. Cal did not break the eye contact. As if an animal at prey, he stared back in hopes of being spared from the food chain. Nathan smacked him across the face, sending him staggering back. Next, Nathan curled his fist and began hitting him in the chest, the face, the arm, anywhere he could land a punch. Cal crumpled to the floor. Nathan stood over him, nailing him again in the face.

"Okay, okay, enough," Ethan grabbed Nathan's arm. His shoulders rose and fell heavily, his nostrils flared as he glared down on his son, who was pathetically holding his arms up to shield himself. Cal felt pressure in his temple and cheekbone from where he had been struck. Gently, he touched his lip, seeing bright blood on his fingers. Ethan guided Nathan a few steps away, but the man whipped around, kicking Cal unexpectantly in the ribs, "Hey! Enough!" Ethan shouted.

"You waste of a human being!" Nathan barked. Ethan had to hold him back, "After everything I have done for you! After every advantage I handed to you on a silver platter!" His voice was growing raspy. Ethan was exasperated by the drama and released Nathan, shaking his head. Nathan approached Cal rapidly, who still remained on the floor. He leaned over him like he was the demon of Cal's worst nightmares. Ethan grabbed himself a cigarette and seated himself on the couch, resigned to simply watching the men. He knew it'd probably be wise to allow them to get the anger out _before _the court case, "You've thrown everything away! You've essentially destroyed the Hockley name! Everything I've spent _years _building, every drop of sweat and blood, you throw away like it's nothing! All for some floozy. I knew she was a bad idea from the start! But you! You've taken it to a whole new level of self-destruction. How can I face my peers in the stock market now?! I've watched dozens of colleagues share warm handshakes with their son's, handing over their office keys, but me!? How could anyone keep even a shred of respect for me if I gave you the keys!"

Nathan's shin collided with Cal's side again, sending the man onto his belly, wheezing for air. Cal pressed the side of his face into the carpet, his eyes spinning. After a moment, Cal lifted himself onto his elbows, gazing up to his father as if he was at his last stand.

"You have _no _self-respect. _No _dignity! I am _ashamed _to call you my son!"

"Oh, really?" Cal grinned now, cocking a bold brow up, "So, I'm not the prodigal son you envisioned, am I?" Cal came to his knees before his father, still with his unwavering salesman smile, "Do you remember what your childhood was like?" Cal narrowed his eyes at his father, "You were born to a poor carpenter and his _fragile _seamstress wife, who sewed from bed, after being confined after your birth," Cal was whispering, his voice icy, "You had nothing. You went to a school with only twenty-two other children from the small, desolate area you grew up in. But, alas... you had choices. You could be whatever you wanted. You could have been like those twenty-two other children; destined to working in mines or hauling rocks... but you, oh lucky you, decided to move out of there and be more than the _tribe _you had been apart of. You think you have everything," Cal's eyebrow twitched, his eyes locked on his father, "You think you gave me the world. But I, unlike you, was never given what you said you didn't have in childhood: _Options,_" Cal's eyes opened wide, sparkling in the light, glazed over from his lack of health, "You never even gave me the courtesy, _Father_. I had expectations since the day my mother gave birth to me. And by God... I tried to uphold those virtues you sought for me to have. But a man can only go so far."

"You're absolutely fucking delusional," Nathan scoffed, "You didn't have to live in a place like I did to make it anywhere. One room, sleeping on the cold floor with nothing more than a meager cotton blanket! My pillow was a Goddamn brick with my mother's left-over batting! Every night, I had to listen to her moan in pain! Every day, I had to watch my father work his fingers to the bone! You were raised in luxury. How _dare _you say you didn't have options! Look what happens when you're given options. You see that broad at a debutante ball and you say, 'she is the one!'! Well look now, she has you dangling by the thread of your life!" Nathan's fists curled again and he punched Cal, sending the man backwards onto the floor again, "How _dare _you!"

"We don't choose who we love," Cal said cooly, allowing his nose to bleed freely and dribble onto the carpet, "Didn't you, yourself, choose a woman much less well-off than you?"

"Don't you even think about bringing your mother up," Nathan hissed, his cheeks growing red, "You know that's not what it comes down to. Irene was willing to do anything it took to make sure our family succeeded. She was a dutiful wife. Rose couldn't even dream of being half the woman she was!"

"You don't even know Rose!" Cal roared back.

"I know enough to realize that she's got you in over your head!" Nathan boomed, taking a step towards Cal and making him flinch, "She just lets any man knock on her door!"

Cal swung his leg out, taking Nathan's feet out from underneath him. The man fell onto his side, letting out a yelp. Ethan sat up straight, carelessly dropping ash onto the carpet. His mouth dropped open as Nathan whipped his black hair from his face. Nathan sprung across the carpet, wrapping his hands around Cal's neck and jamming his knees against his side so he couldn't wiggle.

"After everything I've done for you!" Nathan growled through clenched teeth, "_This _is the hill you want to die on!? You could have had the world! You've made me into a fool! I trusted you, like I would have a peer in the business world, and you betrayed me!"

"H-hey, Nathan," Ethan threw his cigarette into the ash tray and came towards the men, setting his hand on his tense shoulder. Cal's face had grown red, desperately grasping at Nathan's hands, "You're hurting him seriously, Nathan! Let go of him!" Ethan began tugging on his arms.

"You're worthless, pathetic, every adjective in the book!" Nathan shouted.

"Hey! Nathan! Get a hold of yourself!"

"I wish you had never been born! I would have gladly taken a daughter over you!"

"Nathan! That is enough!" Ethan was able to pull Nathan away. The business man staggered to his feet, nearly breathless. Cal was coughing and sputtering on the floor, blood smeared all over his face and beginning to dry around his nostril, "Why don't you take a walk?" Ethan guided Nathan away. The man inspected his hands to see flecks of blood and scrapes on his knuckles, "There's a cigar lounge two blocks north of here. I'll come find you later, how about that?"

Nathan let out a huff and adjusted the cuffs on his jacket, giving his shoulders a shake. He glanced towards his son for a moment more before he simply left without another word, closing the door quietly behind him. Ethan let out a sigh and turned towards his troubled client. Cal was sitting on the floor pathetically, drowning in his troubles.

"Go take a shower, for Christ's sake," Ethan told him, reaching for another cigarette, "I have work to do."

...

Jack had nearly begged Rose not to go to work that morning, but she was stubborn and insisted she did. She didn't want the other nurses to have to pick up her slack from playing hookie. Annette and Rose left, leaving Jack in the apartment by himself again. He finished his breakfast alone and cleaned the kitchen up, doing all the dishes, and wiping the counters down. He opened the curtains and swept the floors, anything to make time go by faster. By the time he had finished, however, it was barely nine in the morning. He let out a huff, wandering into the living room with his arms crossed over his chest. He paused when he saw his brown portfolio gleaming on the table.

Jack hadn't used it yet. Partly because he was saving it to be a clean slate for school. He crossed to the portfolio, gingerly taking it into his hands and inspecting it. It had cost a pretty penny, but Rose used part of her pay as a nurse to buy it without the slightest hesitation. Jack ran his hands along the spine and opened it to admire the blank space. When he opened it, however, he paused, when he saw something written on the first page. Instantly, he knew it was Rose's handwriting. He could tell simply by how beautiful it was. He imagined her graceful slender hands touching his portfolio. Jack had spent hours admiring Rose's handwriting on his medical charts in the hospital.

_ Dear Jack,_

_I hope you find this portfolio of immense help and motivation during your adventure into higher education. I hope that everytime you open it, it reminds you of me. I'm so proud of you for the choices you have made. I am your biggest cheerleader and, most of all, your number one fan. I know you will do well in college because you're good at whatever your hands touch. I believe one day, I'll see your name on a marquee and your art hanging in a museum. You've given me my motivation, you've picked me up off the floor; now it's my turn to nurture and support you. I love you greatly. All the way to the stars and back._

_ Forever yours, Rose_

Jack gently ran his hand over the blue ink forever engraved into the page. He walked back to the kitchen island, setting the open portfolio down. He seated himself in the stool and continued to stare at the page in silence. He noticed she had only taken up half the page. Jack reached for a pencil sitting amongst his pile of supplies. It was one of the pencils he was saving for college. He leaned forward on his elbows, making the stool creak, and began making the lightest sketches on the page, focusing intently. All he could see in his mind, all that he was fixated on, was Rose's face, slightly cocked to the side, with a big grin, and her hair piled atop her head. And he had to do it justice.


	34. Receding Waves

Chapter Thirty-Four

_May 7th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

That evening, Rose and Annette walked up the stairs of the apartment complex, laughing to each other about a comical patient they had seen, who was hysterical over something so minor as a small rash on his elbow.

"He had been on a hunting trip the weekend before and didn't stop to consider he may have been in contact with poison ivy?" Annette chuckled as she flipped open her mailbox hanging on the wall beside the front door. She pulled a few envelopes out as Rose also laughed.

"I can't imagine someone like him even being helpful on a hunting trip," Rose grinned.

Annette stuck her tongue out at Rose as she jammed her key into the front door. She realized, however, it wasn't locked, "Oh, Jack must be home," She said as she pushed the door open. When Annette entered and hung her purse on the hook, she gasped in delight, "Oh my gosh, Rose, he cleaned my apartment. No dust, everything's stacked nice and neat," She gasped all over again, "Look how shiny my countertops are!" Annette went bargining into the kitchen with Rose on her heels. The women paused when they saw Jack very fixated on a drawing, which he seemed to be finishing with shading.

"Hey, you," Rose said, "Did you hear us come in?"

Jack looked up from the piece suddenly, blinking his eyes, "Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn't."

"Someone could have been here to murder you and they would have, because you're so interested in that drawing," Annette came around the island, "What is it?" She paused, her eyes locked on the drawing. Slowly, she took the portfolio into her hands so she could look at it closer. It was easy to tell it was Rose in her most natural state. It was as if he knew and memorized every detail about her. She lowered the book and looked intently at Jack, "You have a gift, you know that?"

"So he's been told," Rose crossed her arms over her chest and smirked.

"Rose, it's you," Annette held the portfolio out to the red headed woman.

"What?" She knitted her eyebrows together and took the book from Annette. When she looked to the picture, her heart melted. His lines were perfect, his shading was delicate and precise. He had captured her in a way she always wanted to be remembered. Lighthearted and carefree, "Oh, Jack... it's beautiful," Slowly her eyes fell to the corner of the page where she saw his signature, perfected over many years, "You used your new portfolio to draw a picture of me?"

"You used my portfolio to be the next Walt Whitman," Jack grinned, sheepishly turning his pencil between his fingers.

...

After Cal had taken a bath, he locked his bedroom door and went to sleep, despite it being the middle of the day. He felt nothing when he slept, and he longed for the feeling. Even though, when he dreamed, all he could see was Rose. But he didn't care. He _wanted _to see her. He saw her in a variety of ways. On the ballroom floor in her debutante dress, white and floofy, her wild hair pinned into a flaming bun on her head. He saw her in a silky robe, laid out before the fireplace with a book. He saw her in the latest fashion, walking the streets of Paris and soaking everything in.

Cal had no idea how long he was asleep for. But he was awoken to shaking and Ethan was standing over him with his hands on hips, "Get up, Caledon. We have work to be done. You can't just sleep until the trial," Ethan pulled the blankets away from Cal, who moaned in protest, "Look, your father's still coolin' down at the lounge. I'd say we still have a few good hours to knock ourselves into shape. I think it'd be wise for you to be refreshed when your father returns."

"How did you get in here?" Cal squinted as he adjusted to the bright lighting. It looked to be early afternoon, so he had only slept for an hour or two.

"A lawyer who can't pick a lock?" Ethan shrugged, shaking his head, "You won't find one who can't around here. Now, chop chop. Get dressed, brush your teeth, and comb your hair. Then meet me in the sitting room so we can get something done, alright?"

Cal sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. He then sighed, resigned, "Okay, fine."

"'atta boy!" Ethan grinned, patting his shoulder, "See you in ten."

Ethan closed the door after him and Cal stood, stretching out a bit. He went to the mirror to comb his hair and looked at his red and purple face. His right cheekbone was puffed out and noticeable from the right angle. He had a purple bruise running diagonally from his left eye towards his hairline. His lips were cracked and scabbed. Cal sighed and fixed his hair. He sprayed some cologne on his wrists and rubbed it in. He then dressed in a crisp white button-up, black slacks, with a jacket. He decided to forgo a tie. It simply felt too formal.

Cal went to the sitting room to find Ethan furiously scribbling on his steno-pad. He looked up upon hearing Cal's shoes on the thick carpet runners and grinned widely, "Lookin' good, champ. Nice clothes and hair. I think the bruises give you dignity. It'll really tell the jury you've had enough," Cal let out a huff. Ethan pointed towards the couch across the coffee table from him, "Sit down. Let's start."

Cal slowly lowered himself to the couch and in the same moment, reached for a cigarette and lit it, bobbing his knee anxiously. Ethan lowered his pen and looked towards the window. He licked his lips and then gazed at Cal, "There's something I'd like to make clear right now, before we go any farther," Ethan said, tapping his pen against the pad, "As your lawyer, we're doing things _my _way. It's why your father hired me, right? 'Cause I know best. I think, speaking from a professional point of view, I've given you too much free reign in your decisions. You have to understand, you're being watched very closely right now. Your story is the hottest one on the market. Hell, just yesterday, the journalists published an article about your academic performance in school and business college. They're interested in anything you do," Cal's eyes lowered to the coffee table, "That's why it's important you only do things when I tell you to. And everything you want to do, you have to run it by me first. If you keep doin' what you're doin', you're going to blow all of your chances in court. We have to make you likeable, and sorry to say, people don't like drug addicted-alcoholics who harrass their ex-lover. Got it?"

Ethan reached into his briefcase that was leaned against the side of the couch. He rustled through a few folders before he pulled out a thick typewritten document, paperclipped together. He held it out to Cal. Slowly, the man took it into his hands.

"That," Ethan pointed to Cal's hands, "is your script. Your story. We have to be airtight. You're going to memorize all the facts in there. We're all gonna be on the same page."

Cal thumbed through the pages pensively, "It all just leads back to the Heart of the Ocean. And... a lot of this is implying Rose is a whore who yanked me around."

"Yeah, like I said, it's your story," Ethan grumbled, looking through his own copy. His patience with Cal was waning every moment he was apart of the case. It had certainly turned out to be much more than Nathan had implied when he had first called about the matter. That's why Ethan didn't feel bad for jacking up his price per day on Nathan, "Now, you didn't give me a straight answer last time about the angle you wanted to come in on, so we're going to beat on both drums. We're gonna pull some heartstrings and we're going to cry about the dry wallets."

Cal began to open his mouth to protest when Ethan brought his hand up to silence him.

"Zip it. I don't wanna hear any flak. You've done things your way and look where it's gotten you. Now, it's all my way. And you better _not _test me on this, Caledon," Ethan's eyes were dark as he glared in Cal's direction. Cal closed his mouth and shook his head, looking back to the papers in his hands, "Okay, so we're starting at when you first saw her. The heartstrings part..."

...

_May 9th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose had the next four days off because of the impending court date. She painstakingly saw Annette off, wanting more than anything to go to work and forget about what awaited her the next day. She closed the door stiffly. Jack was sitting at the kitchen island with a glass of orange juice, listening to a morning broadcast story about the economy in New York City. Rose went into the kitchen slowly and got herself a glass of water, snagging a lemon wedge from a small plate in the ice box. She seated herself beside Jack at the island. He watched as she focused on squeezing her lemon in the water, her eyes following the lemon juice slowly diffusing amongst the liquid.

Jack turned the radio off, tearing Rose's eyes away from the water, "Hey, let's go do something fun today."

"Like what?" She asked with arched eyebrows.

"I have a good idea. Come on, let's go."

...

Rose found herself at the train station with Jack only a few minutes and a short walk later. She watched the back of Jack as he spoke with a cashier in the ticket booth, handing money over, and being given two punchable tickets. She watched his graceful arm gestures and his friendly smile she could spy on the side of his face. He was nice to everyone. Jack left the ticket booth and came back to Rose, holding the tickets close.

"So, where are we going?" Rose asked.

"It's a secret," Jack grinned, "You'll see. It's not a long train ride by any means."

"You're going to make me wait the whole time?!" Rose was flabberghasted, "I'll die of curiosity before we even get there, Jack!"

He chuckled when he saw the pouty-look on her face, "You won't have to wait the whole time. The conductor will spoil the surprise when he calls for boarding."

"How long will that be?"

"Maybe another five minutes. Let's walk around the train station," Jack stuffed the tickets into his pockets and took hold of Rose's hand, lacing his fingers through her's. She grinned, looking to their clapsed hands. His hand was so warm and it felt so right. Jack gave her a tug, towing her after him as they began their stroll along the many booths lining the platform. They saw bouquets of field flowers, small bottles of perfume and cologne. They saw jewelry and watches, postcards, stationary, and envelopes.

"For the lady," The kind old woman behind the flower booth grinned, holding a brightly colored daffodil out towards Jack. Jack nodded politely and tucked it behind Rose's ear. The yellow was exuberant against her bright red hair. Rose blushed as Jack and the old woman cooed about her. It seemed Jack was excited to talk about Rose to anyone willing to listen. She smiled his direction as he spoke with the old woman. She thought it was so cute, like he was a boy with a crush on a little girl. The couple continued their stroll together. The platform was lightly occupied due to it being the middle of the day.

"All aboard!" Came a shout as a man in a coat with shiny buttons leaned out from a train car, "All aboard for Coney Island!"

Rose grinned excitedly, looking to Jack and gripping his hand tighter, "You're taking me to Coney Island! I've never been there before."

"Really?"

"No, never. I've heard it's goregous out there."

"That's what I heard, too."

"You've never been there, either?"

"And what would a guy like me be doin' out there on my own?" Jack chuckled.

"Let's go, let's go! We can get the best seats if we go now!" Rose tugged on his hand.

"Rose," Jack laughed out loud now as they began walking towards the train, "There's maybe six other people here for the ride."

...

Jack was right. The train ride was not long at all. Rose was eager and fidgety the whole time. And she couldn't stop saying thank you to Jack over and over again. He was rest in the train seat next to her comfortably, his arm looped around her shoulder. She sat closest to the window and her eyes were glued to it nearly the whole time. Jack was happy in that moment. He could tell Rose needed a way to simply let go and be free. He knew this would be good for her.

"Oh my God!" Rose sat forward out of Jack's arms, pressing her palms to the window, "The water here is _so _blue. And look at the sand, Jack. It's white!"

Jack sat forward and peered out the window over Rose's shoulder, "It's beautiful, alright," He whistled as the train came around a curve. Buildings began to block the view of the not-so-distance coast, dotted with spectacular houses along its shores. The squealing of the train brakes rang out. Rose watched as steam began to rise as the train platform came along the side. It was much more magnificent than the one in New York City. The ceilings were high, there were more benches, and lots of activity. Tall skinny palm trees lined the sidewalk to it's entrance.

Jack and Rose stepped off the train and she took in a deep breath of the salty air, her smile never wavering. They descended the stairs, weaving around many come up towards platform, their vacation was obviously over. Rose wanted to immediately go to the beach.

"Then we'll go," Jack took her hand and they began down the sidewalk, "Today's your day. We're only gonna do what you want, Rose."

The wind was rampant on the beach, jerking Rose's curls all around her, like a fire loomed from her head. She laughed, kicking her flats off and carelessly leaving them behind. She raised the hem of her dress slightly, sinking her feet into the crystal white sand and wading through. Jack put his hands in his pockets, a lop-sided grin on his face, as he simply watched her walk towards the blue waves crashing on the shore. She was so beautiful and carefree. Rose looked over her shoulder towards him, tucking her hair back to get a good view of him. Jack took a mental snapshot that very moment of the small girl before the vast never ending horizon.

"Come on, Jack!" She called.

Jack ripped his shoes off at his feet, hopping back and forth to steady himself. He balled his socks up and threw them on top of his shoes and cuffed his pants. He stepped into the sand. He had always thought it was a pleasant feeling to have the grit of the sand between his toes. He hurried down to Rose as she turned and continued for the waves.

She grabbed his hand as they approached. She even let go of her skirt, not really caring if it got wet. They slowly stopped at the edge where the sand was wet and packed tightly together. Rose gazed out into the horizon, her eyes following the edge of the world as she saw it.

"Isn't it such a weird thought that you could keep travelling towards that horizon... yet, you'll never make it? It will endlessly supply land and ocean for you to travel, around and around you go," Rose said, squinting in the bright overhead light of the sun.

"The world's a big place."

"And we're just little human's."

Jack glanced to the side of Rose's face. She felt his eyes and looked towards him. His breath nearly hitched in his throat when he saw how the sunlight made her eyes sparkle. Just as they had done on the first class deck that early afternoon aboard the _Titanic_.

"The world may be big and we may be small," Rose grinned, "But what a difference we make on this world. Don't you think?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded, "Everything we do affects the world, one way or another."

"You affect me," Rose whispered.

Just then, a cold crash of waves came over their ankles, shocking them. Rose laughed wildly as sea foam splashed all over them. Her skirt grew heavy and dark below her knees. Jack was hysterical with laughter. Rose wiped some sea foam from her cheek and joined in with him. She lunged forward, pressing her salty lips to his. He threw his arms around her without the slightest hesitation, crushing her against him. Rose's fingers tangled through his curls as they urgently met each other's lips. Another waved crashed against the side of them, sending the couple falling into the sand. Rose went into another bout of laughter, grits of sand covering her hair. Jack sat up on his elbow, grinning down on her. The whole lower half of their bodies were soaked to the bone.

Rose's face had grown red as she was able to finally stop laughing. She cocked her head slightly in the sand to look up at Jack, whose eyes so tenderly fell on her. Rose was smiling so wide, she was sure she would break her face.

"I love you, Jack," She said.

"I love you more," He dipped down, cupping her cheek, and pressing his lips to her's. Another waved rolled up the shore, soaking Rose's back and running all around the couple. But they didn't flinch. They were so wrapped up in their deep kiss, nothing else mattered around them.

The wave receded, just like they knew all the troubles in their life would too.


	35. Motion

Chapter Thirty-Five

_May 10th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose stared at herself in the mirror of the bathroom, fresh from a soak in the tub. She gently ran the comb through her curls, straightening them out and flicking droplets of water to the tile floor. Slowly, she lowered the brush, her eyes locked on herself. Today was the big day. She nearly trembled at the thought. Rose pressed her hands to the cool counter surrounding the wash basin and leaned in even closer to her reflection. She gently brushed away imaginary lint caught to her eyelashes and eyebrows. She perfected the edge on her lipstick. She then looked to her velvet purple dress with short sleeves and smoothed out invisible lines.

_They're all going to be staring at me... just like this, _Rose thought, looking back to the mirror again, _Scrutinizing every last detail about me... judging me. Calculating my words to be sure every single one of them adds up. I have to be flawless in my actions, sure of what I'm doing and what I'm saying, _She nodded at herself, fluffing her curls, _When they ask me a question... I should only answer it as directly as I can. Don't offer more information unless pressed._

There was a knock at the door, startling Rose. Her heart was beating violently as she looked to the brass doorknob, bringing her hand up to rest on her thundering chest. She shook her head, taking a deep breath and opened the door. Annette was standing in the hallway, her dirty blonde hair free on her shoulders. She was wearing a blue dress and was fiddling absently with a sterling silver charm bracelet on her wrist.

"Hey," She said, looking towards Rose, "You've been in there awhile. Everything OK?"

"Yes," Rose replied, breathlessly, "I was... just making sure I looked alright."

"You look great," Annette gave her a weak smile, "Why don't you come eat breakfast? Jack made sunny side-up eggs and hash browns."

That's when Rose smelled food and heard the sizzling of a pan drifting towards her down the hallway. Rose shuffled her feet. She felt anything but hungry at the moment. She was fixated on every hypothetical possibility that could happen that day. She tried to think up answers for what she thought would be blind-siding questions, like, "How old were you when you first engaged in consensual relations with Caledon Hockley?" or "What kind of education do you have?" Maybe even, "Did you ever love him?"

Rose leaned against the doorway, "I don't think I could eat."

"I insist you do," Annette told her, "We have Hippocratic Oathes to be held here."

Rose smiled, lowering her eyes to the carpet, "I just... don't know what's going to happen, Annette. And that scares," She lifted her eyes to meet her friend's gaze, "I've never had this happen before. Now that the day has come... I don't know if I'm ready. This is," She paused, glancing down the hallway fleetingly, "I think this is worse than marrying him. This is deciding his future, Annette. It's the maker or break and I can't help but think," She slowed for a moment, taking a deep breath, "I will feel guilty for the rest of my life, no matter what, for derailing his life as he knew it. I fear that I will take responsibility for his action's, that I would be the reason for his imprisonment. I don't want to feel this way," She gripped the necklace dangling on her collar bone, "But I feel like I will."

"Rose..." Annette whispered, shaking her head. She engulfed her friend into a hug, combing her hand through her damp curls, "You have no reason to be frightened. Me and Jack are here for you, we always will be. You're not in trouble," Annette drew away from Rose to meet her eyes, "You didn't make any decisions for him. You only made decisions for yourself."

"But our choices... they affect other people," Rose's face was only inches from Annette's.

"Maybe they do... but we can't _all _be accountable, can we, Rose?"

...

Cal was slumped against the leather seat of the car, allowing the bumps in the road to carelessly nod his head. He was so tired as of late. He had been awoken at six that morning. Though Cal had slept nearly ten hours, he still felt exhausted, and it was a dreadful feeling to have when he knew the day he had ahead of him. They were due to arrive at the courthouse shortly, very early, by Ethan's request.

"Cal, sit up straight," Nathan said. Cal did as he was told, though he decided to look out the window instead of at his father or lawyer, "You have to perk up. We'll be there soon."

"I'll get us some coffee immediately, don't worry," Ethan shook his head, holding his hand up to silence all chatter. He was fed up and would rather be doing any other case than the one he was stuck with. His hopes were not high that morning. They were hanging by a thread, with a barely-sane defendant. Ethan pressed his arm to the rest on the door, spying the courthouse a block away, just over some hedges from a nice park with water fountains of Greek god's and goddess, leading towards the old gothic victorian architecture Classic New York was known to have. As they approached the intersection, Ethan spied the crowd gathered at the base of the grand staircase. He grinned, looking towards his cilents, "They're here. Everything is going to plan."

"Excellent," Nathan nodded, adjusting his black satin tie.

"Which, uh... which plan is this?" Cal looked to Ethan hurriedly. He was trying his hardest to concentrate, but it felt like everything he had studied over the past few days was fading fast.

"You know, the part where we give our statement, paint Rose in a bad light," Ethan told him, pointedly, "She's not here to defend herself. Our statements will be recorded for a live radio broadcast this morning, available in four other states, I might add," Ethan clucked his tongue, "We set ourselves up to our best expectations to prove our story. You want to win hearts early on, Caledon. It's the only way in a situation like this."

Cal took a deep breath, nearly hunching his shoulders as he drew in, "Right," He said, lightly, nodding and looking back to the window, "Our best... expectations."

The car's brakes squealed shrilly as they pulled in along the curb. The awaiting crowd began forming, leaving only a small semi-circle to step into, immediately encasing their victims in their questions, popping cameras, and hard-jammed microphones. Cal grit his teeth together as he saw everyone ready to their battle stations to swarm him.

"Now's the time to shine, kid," Ethan said, pointing at him, "You can do this."

Cal slid towards the door and gripped the handle, his entire body quaking. He glanced towards his father and lawyer, who waited expectantly for the door to open and the yelling to begin. Cal felt like he was swallowing a brick as he slowly came to his bearings. The door creaked as he pushed it outward, pressing his feet to the sidewalk. The moment he adjusted his coat, the madness around him sank in. Ethan appeared behind Cal, holding his hands up.

"Hush, hush, hush," Ethan shouted, waving his hands. A quiet came over the crowd, "We are happy to answer your questions," The journalists with microphones lunged forward to capture his voice, "I am Ethan Polacki, attorney at law, currently working for Caledon Hockley, who I have here with me today. We are more than happy to answer questions, but _please_, only one at a time. My client has been through many hardships. We don't want to overwhelm him. We are ready for questions, however. Whose first?" Ethan raised his eyebrows and then pointed into the crowd, "Yes, you, young woman with the black hair, I saw your hand first."

"Yes," She nodded, glancing towards her steno-pad, "Mr. Hockley, do you think your ex-fiancée will show? Do you think she will disobey the subpeona?"

Cal glanced towards Ethan, who was nodding encouragingly to him. Cal took a deep breath, "I don't think Rose will disobey the subpeona... but it is entirely her call," Cal said, almost robotically.

"Mr. Hockley!" A man spoke up next, "Is it true you've had a run-in again with your favorite narcotic?"

Cal's face drained of color. Ethan immediately waved his hand dismissively, "The charges do not concern talk of illegal substances. We will only answer questions related to this case."

"Oh, Mr. Hockley!" A brunette woman raised her hand in the air, "When was the last time you spoke with Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater?"

Cal squeezed his eyes shut for just the slightest moment. When he looked back to the audience, it felt as if the microphones had gotten even closer to him. His nostrils flared as he tried his best to keep his breath steady, "The last I spoke to her was at the Central New York Hospital. I had gone to smooth things over due to our rather turbulent break up," He cleared his throat nervously, "I had not been eating well... or getting a proper's night sleep due to fatigue from business and the heart break of our falling apart, especially after such a tragic accident," Cal felt so cold on the inside, "I understand my gun was discharged during this time and that... uh," Cal glanced towards Ethan fleetingly, "It was a mistake... I'm taking better care of myself now and... and working on getting everything straightened out in my life again," Cal swallowed roughly.

"Mr. Hockley, what is it you want from Miss DeWitt Bukater?" Bellowed from the crowd.

Cal felt a cold sweat dribbling along the insides of his skin. He rubbed his palms against his slacks, his mouth feeling dry. Ethan gave him a slight nudge, jerking his head towards the awaiting crowd. Cal looked amongst the sea of unfamiliar faces. He nearly felt like vomiting, "When we broke up," Cal's voice almost cracked as he struggled to keep it together, "there were many unfair disagreements... there were some petty mistakes. Things had ended so bitterly, we were in a competition of who could be the most harsh. We were so... _intent _on hurting the other one last time. Rose... she," Cal fumbled with his words, his body shuddering. He wasn't sure in that moment if he could say the words aloud. Publically slander her, reduce her to her knees before she even had a chance. Cal cleared his throat pensively, "She stole a gift I had intended to give her at the rehearsal dinner of our wedding."

_Lies._

"It was called... the Heart of the Ocean. It was a very rare blue diamond, encased in a platinum crust and chain. I bought it in France for her... so excited to give it to her. It had cost a pretty penny, but I thought..." Cal paused, holding in a sigh, "Anything was worth it for my darling girl."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ethan grinned. It was a line he had written himself for Cal.

"She stole it from my personal belongings, my safe, that I carefully entrusted her the passcode with, after she decided to leave me for another man," Cal's voice cracked slightly at the end, "I need the money now more than ever. She doesn't need it. She doesn't love me. Why should she have my Heart of the Ocean?"

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Ruth was in the library of her house with a cup of tea and cream cheese bagel. The radio was propped up on the table as she took a sip of her beverage, squeezing extra lemon into it. Her eyes pensively gazed towards the radio as she listened to Cal's voice come through the speakers. He sounded so foreign to her. Ruth felt as if she didn't even know the man anymore.

"... She stole a gift I had intended to give her at the rehearsal dinner of our wedding," Ruth paused, slowly lowering her silver spoon. Her eyes slowly gazed towards the radio, "It was called... the Heart of the Ocean-" Ruth felt herself stop at these words. She narrowed her eyes in on the radio, "... very rare blue diamond, encased in a platinum crust and chain..."

"He's lying," Ruth said tensely behind clenched teeth. She threw her spoon onto the table and it clattered a few inches away, droplets of tea gleaming on the surface, "How _dare _he lies! I... I'm beside myself," Ruth's voice echoed in the empty library and her hands began to shake with anger, "Is he delusional?! I doubt Rose even has that necklace. It's probably at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean... Just, ugh!" She scoffed, "Judy! Judy!"

Moments later, a maid was coming through the door with a feather duster in her hand, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Please, bring me the phone immediately. It's urgent," Ruth told her, before turning the volume back up on the radio, listening intently.

...

_New York City, New York_

Rose was pulling her black peacoat on by the door when the phone rang. Annette was in the kitchen packing snacks up and was the first to answer it, "Hello?" Jack looked towards Annette from where he sat anxiously on the couch, "Who?- Oh, why, hello again. Sure... yes, she's right here," Rose froze from adjusting her hair on her collar and turned towards Annette, who was gesturing to her. The phone was mounted on the wall with a very short cord. Rose stiffly crossed to Annette. She lowered the phone to her shoulder, "It's your mother."

"My mother?" Rose was incredulous. Annette handed her the phone and went back to packing sandwiches into a second purse. Jack stood now, sheepishly digging his hands into his pockets, "Hello?" Rose said into the phone, not sure if she could believe it.

"Rose, hello, it's good to hear your voice."

"How... how did you get this number?" Rose knit her eyebrows together.

"It took a few phone calls, but it wasn't much work," Ruth said dismissively, "Look- there's something important I have to tell you. Have you been listening to the radio at all this morning?"

Rose glanced towards the device sitting on Annette's island, "No, of course not. There's nothing I want to hear."

"Rose, Cal has been at the courthouse for the past hour, having a live radio broadcast conference with I'm sure every journalist in New York."

"Okay, and what's come of it?" Rose asked, her heart rate picking up.

"He thinks he has just a good suit against you," Ruth was nearly breathless as she tried to force all her information out, "He's claiming you _stole _the Heart of the Ocean from him. I... I couldn't believe what I was hearing! I know there was some confusion about Jack stealing it, but _you_? Please, tell me it's not true. Tell me it went down with the ship."

"I didn't steal it," Rose told her flatly, "And neither did Jack."

"Then why is he saying this? Does he have proof that you have it? _Do _you have it?"

Rose's eyes shakily glanced towards her duffel bag sitting on the arm of the couch.

"Rose?"

Rose's breathing shallowed, "I do."

"Where? If... How?!" Rose was certain her mother was going to faint from her hysterics.

"You weren't there," Rose stared at the wall now, "It was when the ship was sinking, Cal and Jack were urging me to get on a lifeboat. I was freezing, it was so cold, and all I had on was that white and blue dinner dress and a blanket. Cal _gave _me his jacket and forgotten he had put the Heart of the Ocean in the pocket. I had no idea until after we had gone to the hotel."

"So, he's thinking you managed to still have it? He must have realized-"

"It took him awhile," Rose shook her head, "If he's just now bringing it up. He never once confronted me about it when we were still around each other."

"Rose, you have to get rid of that diamond," Ruth said, pointedly, "If he brings these allegations before you, you're going to have to be able to tell the truth. They could search you."

"I can't just sell it," Rose replied, "It will look even more suspcious if they find a large sum of money that I could get for it. I just have to make it harder for them."

"What are you implying?"

"I'll hide it," Rose glanced towards Annette, "And I think I have a good idea as to where."

...

Rose lead Jack and Annette to a bank six blocks from the apartment. It was a rather chilly morning, Rose could see her breath puffing out before her. They stood in the shade of the bank on the sidewalk. Jack and Annette looked to the tall gleaming building.

"So, what are we doing here?" Annette asked, finally looking to Rose with arched eyebrows.

"Cal is telling everyone I _stole _the Heart of the Ocean, thinking he can play that off for his little fit at the hospital," Rose stepped closer to Jack and Annette, "When in reality, he gave it to me. I didn't take anything from him. But, that means I'm going to have to be rid of this for the time being, to really make him look crazy. To _convince _him it went down with the _Titanic," _Rose's eyes darted between the two of them, "That way, it'll be cleared of everyone's mind. Completely forgotten, so it will be safe for me to sell. And with that money," Rose paused for a moment, "Jack and I can start our own lives. We can start fresh. Because what my mother told me about what Cal has said... I'm going to be painted in a whole new light."

Jack bit down on his lip and looked away. He hated seeing Rose reduced to this. He could see how worried she was, but how she chose to feel confident instead, because she had a plan. He wished she didn't have to do this.

"What's the plan, then?" Annette shrugged.

Rose shifted around in the pocket of her coat for a moment. She glanced over her shoulder before bringing the diamond into her palm, showing it to Annette, "I want you to go into this bank and open a safety deposit box under your name. If they ask what you intend on putting in there, say valuables, pictures, documents, what have you. They won't ask to see anything," Rose was speaking quietly, clenching the diamond in her hand, "Go to your safety deposit box and put this diamond into it. And then, let's forget about it for the time being. Can you do that for me?"

Annette looked to the bank for a moment and licked her lips, "Yeah... I can do that."

"Thank you, Annette," Rose breathed a sigh of relief, pressing the cold diamond into her palm, "I can't thank you enough for doing this for me. I can't do it in my own name. They could find it."

"I understand," Annette pressed her hand to Rose's.

...

Slowly, the trio left the bank and began the walk to downtown to find the courthouse. Rose's hair drifted after her in the crisp morning air. Annette glanced to Jack whose eyes were only on Rose. He was watching her closely, soaking in every tense muscle beneath her porcelain skin.

As they turned a corner of a street block, Rose slowed herself. Jack and Annette copied, staring forward to see what Rose saw. It was Detective Long and Williams, standing with coffee alongside a well dressed man. Williams saw the group first and waved, approaching them, "Good morning, Miss DeWitt Bukater," He said, "We have some coffee for you," He handed her the cup in his hand. Her chilled slender fingers slid around the warm cup, "Miss DeWitt Bukater, this is our lawyer who works on the Board of Law for New York City. His name is Lenny Faltz."

"Nice to meet you," He said, with a charming nothern accent, "I'm proud to represent you and bring you justice to the events you've been met with as of late," He adjusted his circular gold rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, "Apologies for the bad luck, ma'am."

Rose grinned politely at him, "Thank you, Mr. Faltz."

"Now," Lenny cleared his throat, "Are you at all familiar with what has gone on this morning, Miss DeWitt Bukater? I'm talking about a radio broadcast that was of much interest."

"Yes, I am aware I've been..." Her eyes shifted to her black heels, "_accused _of things."

"It's not just accusations," Lenny said firmly, "It's slander, Miss DeWitt Bukater. It was an intentional attack on your character. And they won't get away with it. I promise. We have the best representation the state can give you. I'd like to simply say; I'm on your side, ma'am."

Rose smiled, looking between each face standing around her. Every friendly smile, all the soft and understanding eyes. Rose lowered her coffee, feeling an energy between each indiviual. These were people who were willing to support her. Capable of helping her. _Wanting _to help her. She had never felt so lucky to have such a security net surrounding her.

She lowered her eyes and sighed, "I guess we should get a move on, right?" Rose shuffled her feet and pointed weakly towards the direction of the courthouse, "The sooner we get there, the sooner this will all be over."

...

They entered the park and Rose stopped to take a moment and stare at a water fountain carved to look like a slender goddess. She had a pot on her shoulder, sending a flowing stream of cool water into the small pool gathered at the end of her long flowing robe. Long, Williams, and Lenny were speaking quietly a few feet away, glancing towards the courthouse. Jack came to Rose's side, looking at her face. He fleetingly glanced towards the fountain.

"Hey," Jack pulled his hand from his coat pocket and firmly pressed his palm to her shoulder, making her look at him, "everything is going to be alright, okay? I promise, nothin's gonna happen to you. This day _will _end, Rose... even if it feels like it isn't."

Rose's eyes were locked on the weather-worn face of the goddess. Her eyes lacked any detail and gravely looked down to Rose, making a chill creep up her spine, "I'd rather be anywhere but here, Jack. Just anywhere," She let out a sigh, slowly turning her heard towards him, "Why did it have to come to this? I'm convinced I damn everything I come in contact with."

"That's not true," Jack shook his head, "Everything Cal touches... well, he destroys it. This is not on you, Rose. You're here to open people's eyes. You have to convince them to see what Cal really looks like underneath his velvet jackets and silk ties."

"But..." Rose lowered her eyes, her voice pinched. She took a deep breath and willed herself to look into Jack's eyes, "What if everyone is saying the same about me, Jack? That beneath my cosmetics, beneath these horrid curls... I'm really a monster? That I'm two-faced?"

Jack grinned weakly, bringing his palm to her cheek, "I want to see that happen. Because when you step onto that stand with your long red hair and exuberant green eyes... when you open your mouth to speak so sweetly, I want to _see _people try to hate you, Rose. They can try all they want to paint you in a bad light, but the truth always wins. And you and I both know, you're not a monster."

Rose closed her eyes and brought her hand up to grip his wrist. She melted into his touch. It was the only thing she craved in that moment.

"Miss DeWitt Bukater," Detective Williams called gruffly, "Let's go. They're waiting for us."


	36. Hockley vs New York City: Pt 1

Chapter Thirty-Six

_May 10th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose finished her coffee and tossed the crumpled cup into the bin. She took in a deep breath and stepped onto the sidewalk with the tall and lanky Lenny Faltz beside her. His shoulders were squared back, a tight grip on his briefcase. He took a moment to adjust his blue tie and then looked to Rose, who was nearly a head and a half shorter than him.

"Are you ready, Miss DeWitt Bukater?" Lenny asked from behind his circular glasses. He gestured with his head, rustling his brown curls, towards the crowd just across the street that was buzzing with excitement like a bee hive, "All those people are waiting for you. Answer as few or as many questions as you'd like. Don't worry about the details. Short and sweet. Okay?"

Rose nervously gazed across the street as a pop from a camera flashed. She picked at her finger and looked up to Lenny, "You'll stop me if I say too much, right? I start to jabber endlessly when I'm jittery."

Lenny grinned, "Everything I do today is with your best interest in mind. If I come across as abrasive or nosy, I apologize. I'm simply trying to do my job."

"Thank you, Mr. Faltz," Rose took a deep breath, hunching her shoulders for a moment, "Well, I suppose we should get over there... make our statements and then..." Slowly, her eyes followed the tall, rather breaktaking building before her. She, however, was in no mood to properly appreciate it to its fullest, "... go inside," She finally said, feeling rather detached from herself.

They crossed the street. Rose heard her heels clacking on the pavement and she grew self conscious. Her peacoat followed her in the wind as she stepped onto the next curb. As soon as she and Lenny did, the journalists surged forward, shouting over each other to be heard. Rose nearly fell back off the curb, but she felt Jack's warm palm press to her lower back from where he stood behind her. Lenny waved his arm, bringing a hush over the crowd.

"Hello and good morning," Lenny greeted, "I am Leopold Faltz, attorney at law for the City of New York and Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater. We have just a few moments to answer questions before we must move on inside."

"Miss DeWitt Bukater!" A journalist raised their pen in the air, "Are you aware of the aligations Mr. Hockley has placed against you?"

"Yes, I am," Rose said, trying her best to keep her voice steady.

"Are you in posession of the Heart of the Ocean?" A woman with blonde hair at the front of the crowd asked, looking directly at Rose, her pen ready at a moments notice.

"No, I am not," Rose shook her head.

"What did you do with it?" Another journalist bellowed.

Rose ran her tongue pensively over her teeth for a moment, staying focused on not curling her hands into fists, "I never had the Heart of the Ocean."

"Mr. Hockley-"

"You can't just believe everything he says!" Rose took a step towards the crowd, feeling her irritation grinding under her skin, "Just because he said it first, doesn't make it true. I didn't _steal _anything. As journalists, you should be working your hardest to uncover the truth! Surely you cannot all be gullible to believe him and his lies! He _gave _me that necklace aboard the _Titanic _and it went _down _with the _Titanic_."

Jack stepped onto the curb and placed his hand on Rose's shoulder, drawing her back. _Don't let them win, Rose. Stay cool and collected. Don't play right into his game. _Rose glanced to Jack's tanned hand resting on her and let out a huff, glancing towards the journalists.

"Mr. Dawson! Mr. Dawson!" A journalist grew frenzied upon spying him, "Do you have any statements you'd like to make to Mr. Hockley?"

Jack tore his eyes away from Rose towards the sea of faces. His eyebrows knit together as he was unable to determine who had said it. A camera popped, sending his mind into a whirl for a moment before he recollected himself, "No. I have no statements."

"Mr. Dawson, will you be pressing charges against Mr. Hockley for your injuries sustained at the Central New York Hospital?"

"I think he has bigger fish to fry," Jack replied, turning towards the crowd now. He decided he'd keep them busy. Any way to give Rose a break from all of this, "Mr. Hockley has some explaining to do today. That's all I have to say on the matter."

"Mr. Dawson, is it true you pursued a relationship with a woman you knew was engaged?" Someone eagerly asked a few rows back.

Jack shuffled his feet for a moment, glancing towards Lenny, "Yeah, I did. But you know, there's always two-sides to a story. You guys went to journalism school, you can understand that. You- yeah, you, with the blue and white shirt. What school did you graduate from?"

"Cornell," He replied sheepishly, lowering his steno pad.

"Cornell, huh?" Jack grinned, "Pretty fancy, right?" The journalist nodded hesitently, darting his eyes back and forth, "When you're training to be a journalist at Cornell, do they actually offer a class on hound-dogging? What about you?" Jack pointed to a man with slick black hair, "Where'd you go to school?"

"Ahem, uh, Harvard," He said.

"Harvard, alright, the big leagues," Jack nodded, pressing his hands to his hips, "Say, did they have a class on how to intrude on everyone's lives and shallowly dig for any piece of information that would make a scandalous headline?"

Now, not a journalist spoke. Cameras still flashed, but it seemed the questions had nearly dried up. Jack was smiling, glancing between all the waiting people, "So, now that we're all feeling just as uncomfortable and awkward as I am, let me tell you what you need to hear. You'll want to write this down," He nodded his head to gesture towards their pads, "A relationship takes two people. Two _willing _people. It requires two people that love each other, care for each other. In other words," Jack shrugged, "not make the other person feel worthless, used, and degraded. When you look at Caledon Hockley's face, what do you see? Behind the bruises and busted lips. Underneath those drug-glazed eyes, you'd find a hungry business man. One who would step on the man beside him to get what he wants. He was raised competitvely and now, that's his every day job. To compete. To come out on top. To always be the best."

Jack paused and looked towards the silent crowd. Several journalists were scribbling furiously. The microphones were peaking out between every gap in the crowd. Many journalists, however, were simply watching Jack, balancing between confused, yet intrigued.

"Now, what part about any of that man did I describe indicate to you he could even give two shits about loving someone? Cherishing them? He might have money, but what about him could ever make someone feel safe? Secure? There's two sides to every story. Remember that."

Still, not a word. Lenny clapped his hands together, wrapping an arm around Rose and surging forward, "That concludes our brief meeting. We must be heading inside."

The journalists parted, allowing Lenny and Rose to walk through. Then they all turned and locked eyes on Jack as he walked by them, making sure to meet as many eyes as possible. Slowly, Annette followed in his steps, her eyes wide, as she looked at the crowd of people who were absolutely entranced by Jack Dawson.

Annette looked to the back of Jack's head, watching his short blond hair bounce as he walked. He was something else, she realized in that moment. Not just artistic, but the man had a tongue of gold. His perfect charisma, his ability to get through to anyone, was astounding. Never had Annette beared witness to such a moving speech that had dozens of people stunned into silence. Never had she seen a man posess so much power through only words. He didn't need a gun. He didn't need bloody knuckles. All he had to do was talk.

And that was amazing.

...

When the group bounded through the door, Lenny threw his head back and laughed. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and turned to Jack excitedly. His happy laughter echoed through the tall-ceiling and marble hallways, "Jack, that was brilliant! That couldn't have gone any better. Where did you come up with that?"

Jack showed off his signature lop-sided grin and rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly, looking between Annette and Rose, "I couldn't just stand there and let them ask Rose those degrading questions. They spoke like they had her all figured out, as if they caught her red-handed. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut."

"Well, that was magnificent," Lenny let out an excited sigh, "I think you really sent them a message. That's a great start to our case. Come on, let's head to the hearing room," He gave Jack a pat on the arm.

Williams cleared his throat, "Long and I will get everyone coffee. We'll meet you there."

"Sounds good, Chief," Lenny grinned. The four continued on their way. Lenny seemed so at home in the courthouse, as if he had walked the halls dozens of times. With ease, he steered the group around many corners, saying hello to many of his peers, "Right here, Courtroom Sixteen."

Jack held the door open and everyone filed in. Many of the benches were filling up quickly. People were shuffling around and finding their seats. More journalists were piled on top of each other in the back of the room, as far as they were allowed to come in. When they spotted Rose, they perked up, but the court room sheriff made them remain where they were. Rose felt like every single pair of eyes was on her as she walked down the aisle, trying her best to keep her chin up. She dug her hands into her cream colored peacoat, not even daring to glance at a single soul.

A sheriff directed Jack and Annette into a bench two back from the front. They took the last available space near the aisle. Jack gripped the arm rest and leaned out, watching as Rose continued towards the front of the room. Rose drew in a deep breath as Lenny pushed the small swing door open for them to enter the active part of the court room. She slowed her step as she glanced to the occupied table to her left. Domino effect, all three men at the table looked over their shoulders to gaze at her. The first was Ethan Polacki. Then Nathan Hockley. And then... _him._

Rose felt her muscles lock up as her and Cal met eyes. She paused, every part of her body tensing. She clenched her jaw, being sure every part of her face was hard as stone. Cal's eyes looked wet. His face looked pale. He looked at her softly, utterly broken. He shook his head and looked towards the empty judge's desk at the front of the room. Cal tried his best to mentally prepare himself to do this. But he felt so absolutely sure he could not.

_Why did it come to this?_

Rose shrugged out of her peacoat, hanging it on her chair, and smoothed her velvet dress while Lenny put his briefcase on the table and propped it open, gingerly pulling his stacks of paper out, his tediously taken notes and newspaper clippings, and neatly placing them on the table. He gave only a fleeting glance towards Ethan Polacki, a peer he did not highly regard. Lenny slammed his briefcase shut and tucked it under the table. He gestured for Rose to seat herself and together they leaned in over the notes.

"Here, this folder is for you," He handed her files with her name on them, "Just has dates and small tid-bits I was able to gather from the case. These's are just if you need a refresher. Not to be used like a script or anything," Rose turned the notes over in her hands. How wrong it felt to see her name beside his, filling page after page, all their dirty laundry aired in front of the world.

"Are you alright?" Lenny asked, pressing a tender hand to her arm. Rose ripped her eyes from the typewritten text, blinking rapidly as she met Lenny's gaze.

"Yes, I'm fine," She whispered, "Maybe I've had too much coffee."

"Oh, no," Lenny chuckled, trying to ease her nerves, "As a lawyer, Miss DeWitt Bukater, I can assure you, there's _never _too much coffee."

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Christophen Peters!" Called the baliff at the front of the room. Shifting of benches and scraping of chairs rang out across the room as the audience did as they were told, in waving rolls. An elderly man with white hair and deep sophisticated wrinkles came to the stand and waved his hand dismissvely over the crowd.

"You may be seated," Judge Peters said in a voice that exuded dignity. He eased himself into his tall leather chair and reviewed a few pieces of papers before him. He lowered the gold spectacles on the bridge of his nose and glanced towards the jury, made up of twelve men, before looking between the plantiff and defendant, "As you know, I'm Judge Peters. I've been a judge for the State of New York for thirty-seven years running now. I have seen many cases in my time, but I can say with ease, this one is most frightening," He adjusted his spectacles, looking towards the piece of paper, "Today we are gathered to hear Caledon Andrew Hockley versus The State of New York City. Representing Mr. Hockely today, I see, we have Mr. Ethan Polacki," Judge Peters peered his direction, "And for the State of New York, none other than Mr. Leopold Faltz. Why, hello, Lenny!"

"Hello, Christophen, good to see you," Lenny smiled good naturedly, folding his hands atop his files. Ethan glared Lenny's direction before giving a reassuring wave to an angered Nathan and an emotionless Cal.

"Mr. Polacki, we shall start with you," Judge Peters leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, "We are ready for your opening statement."

"Excellent," Ethan stood and buttoned his coat and then adjusted his tie. He strolled out confidently from behind the table, coming to stand between Judge Peters and the jury. Ethan took his time looking to each face. The only faces that mattered now, anyway, "My fellow jurors, esteemed Judge Peters, I stand before you today as a man who has been humbled. Every single one of us has always dreamed of having more, right?" He shrugged hypothetically, turning on his heels, "We've dreamed about what it would be like if we had enough money for a big house or a new car. We've all been curious as to what it would be like to work a well-paying job. And even argued with oursevles saying the stress would be worth the over-exertion; the constant blood-sucking a demanding well-paying job would have. Because we all want the same thing: money," Ethan paused, nearly melo-dramatically, as he soaked in the silent courtroom, save for the clicking of typewriters and the occasional cough from the watching crowd.

Ethan raised his index finger and narrowed his eyes along the jury, "How many of us have actually lived that kind of life, though? None of us are stock brokers, heir to a million dollar organization. None of us have had, what feels like, unrealistic expectations thrusted upon our shoulders. At least, not like Caledon Hockley," Ethan gestured to the hunched man at the table, who was only focused on making sure his face didn't quiver, "Many of you may look at Caledon and not feel an ounce of empathy for him. You may think he's simply affluent and has not a thing to cry about. But you would be wrong. When he was just a boy, he was already part of the stock broker world. He helped his father in the office every day after school and, in fact, made his first purchase on the stock market at the ripe age of nine. Pretty impressive, right?" Ethan grinned, "But the immensity of the career he was carving for himself was only just beginning. Soon enough, he would finish early from school, with high marks, I might add," Ethan cleared his throat, "Caledon Hockley never fell short in any areas of his life, not with his father watching, no sir," He shook his head, "He went on to succeed in business school and had no problems fitting in. There was one little hitch, however," Ethan paused again and everyone in the room waited with bated breath, "His mother, Irene, died just a few weeks shy of his graduation. Caledon was a momma's boy, you see, and it devastated him that she died before one of his grandest moments. And that is where I place the first crack in the foundation. One that would become quite concerning as the years would go on. Today, my fellow peers, I ask for you to open your mind and your heart. You may see a different man at the moment, a different perception blocking what else could be found. The man you may know Caledon Hockley to be as of this morning when you were having breakfast, will be completely different from the man I will soon show you he is. Thank you."

"Alright, thank you," Judge Peters' chair creaked as he leaned forward on his elbows, "Mr. Faltz, your opening statement, please."

"Yes, sir," Lenny came to his feet. Ethan gave him a hard glance as the two men passed each other and Lenny took the floor. He placed his hands behind his back, planting his feet, and looked politely to the jury and then Judge Peters, "Majority of those occupying the court room today are residents of New York City, myself included," Lenny shuffled his feet, his smile never wavering, "We care about our city. I have worked for the law of New York for over a decade now. Our safety is an important matter, one that us citizens constantly strive to improve. It's our duty, anyway, as we chose to make this state our home. So, as a citizen myself, I find myself concerned with acts of violence such as this, as I'm sure many other residents in this room can agree," Lenny gestured his hands widely, "Many of us here today are here for answers. For reasons. We all want to know the same thing. Why did something like this happen? Why did it escalate in the way it did? Could we have prevented this? These are all answers I, a resident and representative for New York City, wish to answer today. I find as we speak further on this matter, it will unravel like a ball of yarn, uncovering what lies in the center. And I guarantee you, we will all agree it's a devious matter that deserves to be taken off our streets. Thank you, Judge Peters."

"Thank you," Judge Peters cleared his throat while Lenny seated himself beside Rose. Immediately, the two began turning pages in their folders, "The defense may call their first witness to the stand."

Ethan came to his feet and pressed his palms to his cluttered table, "Your Honor, I'd like Caledon Hockley to take the stand."

Nathan jabbed his elbow into Cal's side, making him perk up. Cal looked around the room in a daze before clumsily coming to his feet and heading towards the stand. The baliff intercepted him, holding a copy of the Bible out towards him. Cal's hand shook as he rest his hand atop it and promised to tell the whole truth, nothing but the truth.

"... So help me God," Cal whispered hoarsley.

Cal heard every step of his echo through the room. He heard his chair creak as he seated himself. Cal looked over the dozens and dozens of faces looking back at him as he sat in what he thought to be the spotlight. In the past, Cal had strived to be the center of attention. But now, he wished no one knew who he was. Cal's eyes came to rest on Rose, who sat up straight with her hands folded in her lap. He quivered as his eyes followed her long curls and admired her porcelain skin. He more than anything wanted to feel her body against his again. He wanted to hold his hand out and see her slender manicured fingers slip into his. He wanted to lead her on the dance floor once more. Run his hands through her curls. Hear her laugh or her endless drabble on art. Cal missed everything he thought he once had with Rose. And now, she only gazed back at him as if he was no more than a perfect stranger.

"Please," Ethan slowly wandered towards the witness stand, his coat buttoned and his hands resting on his hips, "State your full name for the court."

_Like they don't know, _Cal thought exasperatedly, "Caledon Andrew Hockley."

"Now, Mr. Hockley," Ethan cleared his throat, "would you please describe to the court the type of relationship you had with Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater before everything came to a head, for lack of a better term," Ethan waved his hand dismissively. Cal ground his teeth together, running his palms against his slacks beneath the table.

Cal swallowed roughly and glanced towards the jury fleetingly, "Rose and I became engaged on February 19th, 1911. Just 5 days after her sixteenth birthday. By all means, it was a standard arranged marriage. Nothing... out of the ordinary," Cal shrugged.

"Where did you meet Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater?" Ethan leaned against the witness stand.

"At a debutante ball. It was December of 1910. Just... just a few days before Christmas," Cal blinked rapidly as the memory flooded back through to him.

_December 21st, 1910_  
_Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania_

_ Rose stood in a dimly lit hallway. She sighed, looking down to her floofy white skirt. While she thought the dress to be beautiful, the white tulle straps were itchy as all get-out. And her chest felt so confined, the boning in the corset all-wrong. She adjusted her elbow length silk gloves and sighed all over again, a loose strand of curly red hair falling across her cheek._

_ "Rose, don't slouch," Her mother gave her a curt tap on the shoulder, drawing her upwards, as if on puppet strings. Ruth continued to fidget with the diamond hairclip on the back of her head, "Good Lord, these curls are so tight. Try not to jerk your head so much. I can't promise the curls won't come out from the bun."_

_ What do I care...? Rose thought miserably. She glanced towards the fourteen other girls wearing white dresses of many different styles. Some had long lacy sleeves. Others were strapless with bulky white fur coats draped over their shoulders, which so happened to be the hottest trend in France from the past summer. Each girl was busy checking their make up and fluffing their dresses. But Rose simply stood there, not wanting to do a thing more._

_ "Okay, now stand still," Ruth came around Rose, tugging on her ball gown skirt. She tried her best to give it as much volume as the petticoat would allow. Ruth stepped back, folding her hands in front of her. She had a grin on her face, "Dashing. Absolutely lovely. You'll be the prettiest debutante out there, Rose."_

_ "Thank you," Rose said quietly, lowering her eyes to show off her light pink eyeshadow. She had opted for netural colors and light dusting, despite Ruth's protests. But Rose had insisted._

_ Ruth approached her daughter, her heels clacking on the decadent marble flooring. She took Rose's gloved hands into her own, giving it a squeeze, "It's been a tough year, I know," Ruth whispered, maternally pushing a curl out of Rose's face, "But things will get better soon, you'll see. I promise you we will go into 1911 with high hopes and we'll meet those expectations. We'll never face a year like 1910 again, my sweet girl."_

_ John Dewitt Bukater had died on May 9th, 1910. It was not unexpected. Business was not doing well for his salt mine corporation. He had taken hit after hit. The workers slowly receded. Salt mine after salt mine closed until he was nearly reduced to a useless administrative office. Without salt mines, what would his workers do? What paper work was there to be filed? The official date of liquidation was November 18th, 1909. John DeWitt Bukater did not pretend to have a back-up plan. Despite Ruth's incessant nagging, her constant worry, John DeWitt Bukater simply had no more fight left in him. The business he had built from the ground up was toast as he knew it. And so was he._

_ Once a stoic and well put together man, he turned into a disaster at the flip of a dime. No longer careful with his money, he pushed into fueling his way out of reality. His only way to cope was to nurse bottle after bottle of liquor, until he woke up, parched, and drank some more. He picked fights with Ruth, cursed at her openly in front of their only daughter. And Rose? John admitted he couldn't give a damn about the young girl. He had wanted a son. And between the two children he had had, neither were what he wanted. All his years of pent up regret, anger, and stress bubbled over in his rapid decline. Only six months after his life's work died, so did he._

_ And now, Ruth had to take matter into her own hands. It was manifested before her with Rose in her fluffy white dress. Ruth stepped away from Rose and took an unsteady breath, "You look lovely, Rose. I'm just so proud of you."_

_ "Ladies?" A woman in a satin green and black dress came through the curtains, "Are we ready?"_

_ The debutantes lined up. Rose was fifth. Ruth walked alongside Rose, holding her hand the entire time. One at a time, each girl was announced and revealed herself from behind the thick burgundy curtain, to applause and a string quartet. Rose felt her breathing shallow as she inched closer and closer. She watched the curtain flick open, revealing a brightly lit marble staircase and ballroom. Rose spotted dozens and dozens of well dressed people down below, each gazing up anxiously with their flute glasses of champagne._

_ "You're next," The coordinator flashed her a grin, "Love your dress. Smart pick."_

_ Rose could barely muster a grin while she shook her hands and straightened her shoulders. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying for the evening to end. Rose glanced once more towards her mother, who was nodding and backing away. She watched her mother's wet eyes and large grin. Her mother was counting on her._

_ "Go on," The coordinator said, drawing her away from her mother, "It's your turn."_

_ The coordinator pulled the curtain back and Rose blinked rapidly to adjust to the lighting. She stepped out onto the platform at the top of the stairs and looked out over the room. She was sure her legs were going to fail her. Her heart was hammering so loud in her chest, she thought everyone could hear it._

_ "And we have Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater, fifteen years old, from Philidelphia, Pennsylvania. Natural red hair, beautiful green eyes. She's a catch!" The male announcer to her left called out. He nodded to Rose, to cue her in her steps down the stairs. She clenched her dress tightly between her fingers, lifting the skirt and beginning her descent, "The daughter of the late John DeWitt Bukater and Ruth Elder-DeWitt Bukater, she is an only child. Educated through the Philidelphia All-Girls Finishing School, she can type, do needle-work, and cook."_

_ The audience now clapped as if Rose was nothing more than an item on show. She trembled as she made it to the base of the stairs. She wasn't certain on what to do next. She folded her hands in front of, not meeting anyone's eyes in particular. What she hadn't noticed, however, was the man whose eyes were locked on her._

_ Upon her entry at the top of the stairs, Caledon Hockley was frozen in place at the bar, where he was ordering a refill on his martini. Her name was echoing through his mind. He turned away from the bar, his mouth open, as he gaped at the angel coming down the stairs. The moment she finished her descent, he bee-lined towards her, completely forgetting his martini._

_ He burst through the crowd, coming straight towards her. Rose paused, her eyes on him. His black hair was slicked back. He was wearing a freshly pressed suit. He looked dignified. He paused for a moment, readjusting the button on his coat and smoothing out invisible lines. Slowly, he approached her, trying not to swagger sheepishly._

_ "Would you like to dance?" He asked, gesturing towards where the debutantes had gone._

_ Rose glanced feetingly towards the circling couples and nodded, taking his hand. He lead her confidently, his hands guiding her like second nature. They found their place on the floor as the next debutante was announced and they quickly fell into time with the upbeat violin strokes. They danced in silence for a few steps, Cal drinking in all of her features. Rose was nearly discomforted by his stare but she was used to being gawked at for her striking features._

_ "My name is Caledon Hockley," He finally said, nearly shaking himself back to reality._

_ "Rose DeWitt Bukater," She replied._

_ "My father knew yours... You must accept my condolences," Cal told her as they spun around the dance floor, Rose's dress chasing after them and getting caught between their legs, "You're very strong to be back in the public eye so soon. I imagine it was a heart-wrenching loss."_

_ "Yes," Rose said stiffly, looking up to meet his eyes, "It was rough on my mother and I."_

_ "My own mother died in Spring of 1909."_

_ "Were you two close?"_

_ Cal smirked, not at all expecting the questions, "Yes, actually. I loved her very much."_

_ "I'm very sorry."_

_ "Let's focus on something happy," Cal told her, pressing his palm flat to the small of her back, "What interests you, Rose?"_

_ Rose glanced towards the edge of the dance floor where she spied her mother with her own drink, watching the dance with a smile of joy. Rose hadn't seen her mother so happy in a long time. Even before her father's death, she had been mopey, zapped of all life. Rose looked back to Cal, who was watching her expectantly._

_ "I like art," Rose told him._

_ "Art, huh?" He chuckled, quite amused by the young debutante, "Whose your favorite artist?"_

_ "Monet."_

_ "Monet... hmmm?" Cal narrowed his eyes as he thought, "The man who only painted lilly pads and murky swamps?"_

_ "They weren't swamps," Rose felt a smile twitching at her face now, "They were ponds."_

_ "You must forgive me for not knowing the difference," Cal laughed deeply. Rose felt herself blushing at his laughter, "That's all he painted, though, right? Over and over again, landscape after landscape. His paintings don't bore you?"_

_ "They might all look the same, but he saw something different each time he painted," Rose told him, "There's something unique about each one of his paintings. You should go to the art museum in Philidelphia. You might just see something new in his paintings."_

_ "We shall have to go then, hm?" Cal cocked a bold brow up at her. Rose felt the air escape her lungs, her cheeks burning._

_ "Yes... maybe we shall," She replied, breathlessly._

"Mr. Hockley," Ethan said for the second time, snapping Cal back to present day. A chill came over Cal as he remembered once more where he was sitting. The predicament he was in. As slowly the past sank away from him, he looked to each person he had known in that time. How different they now seemed. Cal panged in hurt, wanting more than anything to recapture the past. Ethan was giving him hard eyes as he licked his lips pensively and asked again, "After you two met at the debutante ball, it became clear you two would become engaged?"

"Absolutely," Cal's voice cracked as he hurried to respond, "We were nearly inseperable after that. I traveled to Philidelphia every weekend to see her. And she quite frequently came to Pittsburgh," Cal sighed, lowering his eyes, "We always argued about which city we would move to once it all became official."

"So, you met in December of 1910. Engaged by Feburary of 1911. What happened in the year of your engagement?" Ethan pressed.

Cal felt his insides shrivelling, making him want to curl into a ball on the floor. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want the memories dancing in front of his eyes. Cal's head began to throb as he forced himself to continue, "We attended many parties. Went on a trip to see Niagra Falls and a few parts of Canada. Rose liked to read. In her youth, her father's business was busy. They never travelled much, so Rose did that through books. But I wanted her to see, in the flesh, the worlds she had visited in her mind. It was important to me to give her the world."

"What else happened in 1911?"

"At the end of July, me, Rose, and her mother, Ruth, departed by ship from New York to Southhampton. We were doing a tour of Europe. We spent money frivilously, stayed in the nicest hotels. We... we had a grand time," His voice faltered and he took a moment to compose himself, "I bought her many lavish gifts, danced with in the moonlight in Paris, and had the time of my life. I had never... never felt happier," Cal was speaking with his heart on his sleeve, feeling his body crumble in the chair before everyone, "People always looked at us and I assumed it was because..." He was reduced to a whisper, "... we were so in love with each other."

"So, what happened towards the end of the vacation?" Ethan asked, not at all phased by Cal's emotional outburst. If anything, he simply thought it was good theatre.

"I bought us tickets to sale back. It was getting close to our planned wedding."

"What date was the wedding?"

"April 25th."

"And what ship did you buy tickets for?" Ethan asked.

"The _Titanic. _The grandest of them all," Cal said, his throat pinched, "I thought it'd be good for us to sail back in luxury, just in time for the wedding."

"Did you make any big purchases for Miss DeWitt Bukater in Europe?" Ethan cocked a bold brow up.

"Just one, outside of the dresses, fine dinners, and bottles of wine," Cal nodded stiffly.

"And what was that?"

"A very rare diamond... called the Heart of the Ocean."

"Did it look like this?" Ethan briskly crossed to the table and grabbed a picture sitting on top of his briefcase. He showed it to Cal, who nodded silently. Ethan then crossed to the jury, handing the photo over for each one of them to inspect, "So, uh, what happened to it?" Ethan asked, looking over his shoulder.

"It disappeared," Cal was staring straight ahead now, not daring to look at a soul.

"Disappeared? When?" Ethan pressed, turning towards him now.

"Before the _Titanic _sank," Cal clenched his fists beneath the stand.

"Where was it before the _Titanic _sank?"

"In my own personal safe," Cal spoke as direct as he could, being sure not to fumble with his words, "There was a combination on that safe. And the only two people who knew that code was me... and Rose."

Jack's knuckles turned white as he gripped the arm rest of the bench. His whole body tensed. How dearly he wanted to smash his fist against Cal's jaw. He craved to hear his nose break beneath the weight of his swing. He shook his head, releasing a pensive breath. Annette pressed her hand to his arm, looking at him with concerned eyes.

"That's all for now, Your Honor," Ethan grinned towards Judge Peters and then seated himself.

"Mr. Faltz," Judge Peters glanced his direction, "Would you like to cross examine?"

"Yes, Your Honor, I would," Lenny adjusted his tie before he stood and took to the floor, "Now, Mr. Hockley..." He placed his hands on hips, looking the direction of the rather flushed man, "We've touched on the monetary expenses involved in your relationship with Miss DeWitt Bukater, but we have failed to mention the logistical part of a relationship such as this."

Every muscle in Cal's body tensed, making him freeze like a deer in the headlights.

"Now, when you first met Miss DeWitt Bukater, she was meerly fifteen years old, due to be sixteen in the coming months, correct?" Lenny smiled at Cal, but it was rather deceiving. Cal simply gave him a curt nod, "And you were... how old? I'm sorry."

"In 1910? Thirty-two."

"What did you and Rose have in common, Mr. Hockley? Why were you so drawn to her?"

"She was beautiful," Cal simply said, feeling so hollow inside, "I wanted to know her more."

"What were you doing at the debutante ball in 1910?" Lenny asked, approaching the witness stand slowly, analyzing every detail of Cal's face, "Was there a reason you were there that evening, Mr. Hockley? Were you... perhaps... a man on a mission?"

Cal ground his teeth together and held in a sigh, his nostrils flaring, "Is this necessary?"

"Mr. Hockley," Judge Peters said firmly, "Answer the question."

Cal squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before finally willing himself to look at Lenny, "I attended by my father's request."

"And what were you doing there?" Lenny pressed.

Cal thought his heart was going to explode. He bit down on his scabbed lip, the slightest taste of blood becoming apparent. Cal gazed past Lenny to Rose, sitting meekly in her chair. All she had been doing was simply watching him. She didn't move, her face didn't flinch. She was as still as a statue as she stared back at Cal, her eye contact unwavering.

"As Ethan has explained," Cal said, his body tense, "I had spent years devoted to the stock market world. I had made so much headway in my career, I had neglected other matters. It was time to find a wife, to settle down, Mr. Faltz."

"Right," Lenny nodded, still with his grin, "That's it for now, Your Honor."

"Well," Judge Peters shuffled his papers, "I believe we should take a recess and then we shall move forward with the plantiffs side."


	37. Hockley vs New York City: Pt 2

Chapter Thirty-Seven

_May 10th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Rose and Jack went to the park across the street during the recess. Together, they sat on the edge of a fountain, coffees in hand. The sun was directly overhead, bathing the two in sunlight. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, but Rose could not concentrate on the beautiful weather. She watched the water ripple in the fountain. Jack licked his lips pensively.

"Are you okay?" Jack finally asked, breaking their silence. His hand surged forward, resting on her knee. His hand soaked in the feeling of her velvet dress beneath him.

"It's been tense," Rose glanced towards Jack, lowering her eyes to the warm concrete beneath them, "I imagine I'm next, Jack," She felt her throat become pinched, tears springing to her eyes. She raised her eyes, looking into his breath taking blue orbs, "Seeing how Cal was on the stand... how could I hold it together any better? This is heart-wrenching, Jack. It's like... like someone has my arm twisted behind my back. And they're forcing me to tell the world what's really happened. As if they need to know. But... do they really?"

Jack only stared back at her. She was comforted by his gaze. With a shakey hand, she placed her's on top of Jack's, running her fingers over his knuckles, "I think it's important they know," Jack told her, "How long can this go on for, Rose? The world you grew up in... it does nothing but harm women. What can we, as citizens, do to stop this from happening? To prevent girls like you from being harmed," Jack reached his hand out, gently carressing her cheek. Rose leaned into the touch, "To prevent girls like you from being broken? I'd do anything to spare someone the heartache. You can't know how badly I wish to take your hurt and feel it for myself."

"It's my own fault," Rose whispered, gripping his wrist, "It's my own weight to bear, Jack. These are not your life choices. Why should you be responsible for my suffering?"

"I'm part of this, Rose," Jack said, his shoulder muscles locking up, "I'm not innocent in this suffering. I could have left you alone. I didn't have to push so hard. But I did. I _pursued _you and look now at the world of hurt that you're in."

"Jack," Rose sighed, taking his hand into both of her's. She kissed his fingertips tenderly, "I wanted you. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one I had waited for my whole life. To see your eyes... You were the man I dreamed about in all those books Cal brought up. He was never the man I wanted. It was always you and it always will be."

"Can it possibly be worth it?" Jack swallowed roughly, blinking back any onslaught of tears he might have felt, "Can I give you a life you want? Could I make you feel secure with just love? Nothing else? There's got to be something more I can give you, Rose..."

"No," Rose whispered, holding his hand tightly, "All I want is your name."

Jack lowered his eyes and licked his lips. She felt his hand tremble in her's. Rose gave his hand a squeeze, leaning back to tug his body. He looked up to her with glassy blue eyes and the afternoon light pouring down on him, making his blond hair glow in the golden rays. He looked so angelic to her. He looked so trusting. Rose stared at him in awe, her green eyes opened widely.

"All I want is you," She whispered, her hands crawling up his arms, "Just you, Jack Dawson."

Jack leaned forward, crushing his lips against Rose's. Shakily, his hand rose to rest on her cheek. She drew in closer to him, gripping his starchy white shirt. His hands came to rest on her hips, memorizing every details of her curves. He drew back, pushing some framing curls away.

"Just me?" He breathed, their faces only inches apart, "Nothing more?"

"Not an ounce more," She whispered, "I don't care if we sleep under a bridge, Jack. I've never wanted anything more in my entire life. I can't deny this want. I can't deny this _need. _I long for you, Jack."

Jack pressed his foreheads to Rose's. She melted into his touch, relishing every moment of their hands sliding over each other, learning each other, knowing each other. She gripped him tightly, wishing she could only be closer, nearly infused in his tanned calloused skin.

"What do you say," Jack whispered, his lips brushing against her temple and making her skin pucker, "... when the court case ends, you and I leave. We vanish," He now pressed his lips to her ear. Rose dug her nails into Jack's shoulders as he spoke to her, "We take off for that horizon we've watched endlessly... we start fresh and new. Just Jack and Rose Dawson... nothing odd about it," His hand slid up her neck, leaving trails of fire down her chin as he carressed her endlessly. But she paused, gripping his neck.

"Jack," She whispered, burshing the edge of his ear as she smoothed his hair back from his face, "what about school?"

Jack chuckled, his body vibrating against her's, "Who cares? All I want is to live life with you. I don't care where end up, what we do, as long as it's with you," Jack's hands ran through her curls, sliding down her back ,"You know what's in California, Rose? Hollywood."

She grinned, feeling every inch of his face beneath her palms, "Are you suggesting what I'm thinking?"

"The court case ends and we don't stick around," Jack's hot breath brushed against her cheek. Rose was nearly in his lap at his point. He clutched her thigh, holding her against the side of him, "We don't even stay to hear the outcome. We pawn the Heart of the Ocean and we just get out of here. We finally go live that life that has been on hold... just you and me, Rose."

"I've always wanted what I couldn't have," Rose whispered, sliding her cheek against his, smiling all the while.

"Then run away with me," He said, breathlessly, bundling her velvet dress in his hands.

"Miss DeWitt Bukatter-"

Quickly, the couple drew away from each other and with burning cheeks looked to the lanky and awkward Detective Long, "They're, uh, ready to resume."

...

The courtroom was full of chatter. Many people had packed a lunch and shared between the many others gathered in the benches that day. When Rose pushed the door open, a silence fell over the room. Her and Jack walked down the aisle together, but he broke off at his desginated seat. She continued forward, briefly noticing that Cal hadn't moved from his spot at the table during the break. Rose glanced once more towards Jack before joining Lenny at the table. He was just finishing a light salad he got from the cafe at the next the street corner.

"You're next," Lenny told her, tucking his salad under the table beside his briefcase, "It will be my turn to call a witness and it will be you, Miss DeWitt Bukater."

She nodded, "I'm ready, Mr. Faltz."

"Good, excellent," Lenny grinned, "It's not me you have to be prepared for, though... it's Ethan Polacki. You probably know who he is at this point, but I'm not sure you're familiar with the way the man plays lawyer," Lenny glanced towards the other table fleetingly, "I've gone into many cases against Mr. Polacki and I'd say we are both tied when it comes to how many we've won. He practices law unlike any man I've ever seen before and sometimes, I don't know whether that's an interesting thing or a disgrace to the practice," Lenny cleared his throat, "Every law out there, Mr. Polacki is under the assumption it can be translated a multitude of ways, depending on who he is representing. Just be prepared for him and his double-edged questions, okay?"

Rose leaned forward on her elbows, brushing her hands against her cheeks. She watched the other table of furiously whispering men. Cal was simply sitting there, staring directly at the table as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Rose licked her lips and looked to Lenny, giving him a curt nod. In the next moment, Judge Peters had taken to his desk again and the court room was seated and absolutely silent.

"Welcome back from the recess," The elderly man called out, shuffling his papers about, "We're picking back up with the plaintiff's side. Mr. Faltz, please?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Lenny stood and buttoned his coat, "I'd like Rose DeWitt Bukater to take the stand."

Jack watched with eyes of stone as Rose came to her feet and swore herself in. Slowly, Jack's eyes shifted over to watch Cal. His eyes were naturally locked on her as well. He was nearly quivering in his seat. Jack narrowed his eyes on Cal, wanting more than anything to make him need stitches like Jack had.

"Please state your full name for the court," Lenny grinned fondly at Rose, who seemed so petite and fragile in the bulky witness stand. She had her hands resting in her lap, her shoulders squared back.

"Rose DeWitt Bukater," She said, hoping her heart could not be heard pounding.

"Lovely," Lenny nodded, "Now, Miss DeWitt Bukater, were you in favor of your engagement to Mr. Hockley?"

Rose shrugged, tilting her head to the side, "Maybe at first, but it was never because I loved him. You see, when my father died, we realized just how much he had spent of the family money in the six months following it's liquidation. We were left with nearly nothing. It would maybe cover less than a year of living expenses. That's why I was in the debutante ball at the end of that year, Mr. Faltz. To find someone who could save our floundering wallet."

"So, in other words, your engagement to Mr. Hockley was strictly one of business."

"Yes, absolutely," Rose said, keeping her eyes directly on her lawyer. In his seat, Cal felt his insides burning. He hated every ounce of himself in that moment, "I was only doing it to save my mother. But in the end, we simply were compatiable. There was nothing healthy between us, Mr. Faltz. Money can buy you things, but it can't bring you security. I left Cal over a year after our engagement because I had realized these things. I never felt safe with me. I never felt like I could relax. It was like constantly walking on egg-shells, having to my choose my words wisely. He was not a relenting man. Cal always liked to have his way... he liked to have the last word."

"After the _Titanic _sank and you left Mr. Hockley, what did you do?"

"Well," Rose rubbed her arm, which was puckered in goosebumps, "I had never really been on my own before, Mr. Faltz. I was used to having an entourage of maids surrounding me. I wasn't typically never alone. I slept on park benches for awhile and pursued a career as a nurse. After seeing all the suffering aboard the _Titanic_ I thought I could honor everyone who died even if I saved just one life in a hospital. I had always wanted my own career. And eventually, a co-worker took me in."

"In your opinion," Lenny walked towards the witness stand, "was your relationship with Mr. Hockley really over? Was it clear?"

"I thought I had made it very clear," Rose nodded, a curl falling across her cheek, "I jumped off a train to escape him when he was trying to drag me back to Pennsylvania."

"Do you think he only pursued you because he assumed you had the Heart of the Ocean?"

"If that was the case, then I wasn't aware," Rose shook her head, feeling her face heat up, "Mr. Hockley and I were together for nearly half a week after the _Titanic _sank and he didn't once mention it. We had all completely forgotten about it. It had gone down with the ship, Mr. Faltz, and therefore, was out of sight and out of mind."

"Why does Mr. Hockley think you have the Heart of the Ocean?"

"Probably, because at one point, I did," Rose said, glancing towards the jury, "Mr. Hockley presented me the Heart of the Ocean one evening aboard the _Titanic. _He put it around my neck," She felt the cool burn of the chain searing on her collarbone, "and he talked about our future. He wasn't waiting to present it to me at the rehearsal dinner... He gave it to me that night aboard the ship. When the _Titanic _was sinking, Mr. Hockley went back to our room and he emptied the contents of his safe into various pockets, anywhere he could, to save as much as possible. And when he was urging me to get onto a lifeboat, he gave me his jacket. That jacket must have had the Heart of the Ocean in it, but I was not aware. He didn't tell me, I didn't check. We were sinking into freezing water for God's sake, why would I have been thinking about a diamond? I was thinking about surviving. It must have fallen out of my pocket when I was submerged in the ocean. I didn't get on the _Carpathia _with it. I never saw it again."

"Did Mr. Hockley ask you about the diamond during your heated conversation at the Central New York Hospital?" Lenny asked, digging his hands into his pockets.

"No," Rose said, hearing the scraping of chairs, screaming people, and gunshots resound through her ears, "He only talked about wanting me back."

"That's all, Your Honor," Lenny went back to his table and seated himself.

"Cross-examination?" Judge Peters arched his bushy eyebrows.

"Yes, Judge Peters," Ethan popped to his feet and came around the table quickly, as if he was hurried to say what was on his tongue before it was too late, "Not to start out of order or anything," Ethan shrugged sheepishly, "But can we talk about what happened at the Central New York Hospital? If Mr. Hockley was not confronting you about the Heart of the Ocean, what was the real reason he was there? Not just to convince you to return to him... but I think there was more to the story. A man doesn't simply go charging into a hospital with a gun in hand to talk things over with his ex-fiancée. There was someone else apart of this, wasn't there, Miss DeWitt Bukater?" He grinned at her, which she found absolutely hideous in the moment, "Could it have been a Mr. Jack Dawson?"

Rose lowered her eyes to her hands, fidgeting with her nails, "Remember, you're under oath," Ethan's smiled never wavered, "Please, Miss DeWitt Bukater, will you enlighten the court as to who Mr. Jack Dawson is to you?"

"Miss DeWitt Bukater," Judge Peters croaked from above, "Please, answer the question."

Rose took in a deep breath and looked up at Ethan, "Mr. Jack Dawson is my friend. He and I shared a relationship that Mr. Hockley was jealous of. Mr. Hockley always was rather over-protective of me. He must have thought I was ditzy and impressionable. Mr. Hockley did not like Mr. Dawson from the start."

"Where did you meet Mr. Dawson?"

"Aboard the _Titanic._"

"Where? What were you doing to cross paths with a man of much less social standing than you?" Ethan pressed, his bold brows knitted together.

Cal's eyes snapped to the back of Ethan's head, _Don't make her say it. Please don't._

"At the back of the ship," Rose said, the sound of the ocean resounding through her mind. She felt the chill of the night on her skin, the light mist from the Atlantic Ocean brushing over her.

"What were you doing there?" Ethan asked stiffly.

Rose looked directly past Ethan, gazing into the crowd. Her glassy green eyes darted everywhere hurriedly before finally resting on Jack. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. Jack's eyes were soft and he was shaking his head lightly, his blond hair spilling across his forehead. His bold brows quivered, his lips pursed. Slowly and shakily, Rose's eyes drifted towards the journalists at the back of the room. To the people with microphones. Everyone, including her mother, was going to hear this. Her heart was beating in her eyes. She felt the slender cool rail under her palms. She could hear the roar of the might engine chugging through the vast ocean. Rose looked to Ethan, her breathing shallowed.

"I was going to..." She swallowed roughly and looked to the jury, "... kill myself," Rose took a deep uneven breath, looking to every face in front of her, as if she was weak and had to explain herself, "I... I was going to jump off the ship into the ocean. I wanted to be lost at sea. I thought I was too far gone, that I was trapped forever as the days leading to the wedding came. I was sick over the thought that I was going to be Rose Hockley. I dreaded every day leading closer to April 25th. And I even asked God..." Rose lowered her eyes as tears pricked the corners. Her voice cracked as she continued, "I asked God to send a sign about whether or not this was a good idea. I asked him that the morning before we boarded in the hotel. At breakfast," Rose lifted her eyes, staring directly at Cal, whose skin puckered in goosebumps, "When I was sitting right across from Cal. I thought at first that the idea to kill myself was God's answer to me. But after Jack intercepted me, I was grandly confused and rather conflicted. But... when the _Titanic _struck the ice berg, I thought, in that moment, that _this _was God's answer. And I didn't know whether I liked it or not."

"Do you harbor resentment? Revenge?" Ethan asked, his hands on his hips. Rose cocked her head towards him, her green eyes shimmering in the low court room lighting.

"No," Rose said, "All I want is for him to be far, far away from me."

Ethan's eyebrow quivered as he realized he had dug himself into a hole. He sighed, his nostrils flaring, as he glared towards the shiny tile floors. He looked up to Judge Peters, "That's it, Your Honor."


	38. The Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Eight

_May 10th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Jack and Rose bounded down the sidewalk. Their hands were clapsed as they raced together, down the street, bursting between people, crossing in front of cars and earning honks. They were laughing, huge grins on their faces, as they continued their endless getaway up-city from the courthouse. It reminded Rose of what felt like another lifetime ago. She could feel the heat of the boilers plaguing her skin in a thin sweat. She could feel Jack's salty lips on her's. Jack glanced over to Rose with his lop-sided grin as finally, they made it to where they were going. Panting, their shoulders rising and falling, Jack pulled Rose up the stairs. She reached into her waistband and withdrew the key and they burst into Annette's apartment, laughing all the while.

"Pack your stuff, hurry, hurry," Rose said, pressing her hands to his arms, "If we are quick, we can find tickets for the last train as far away as possible," Rose was still breathless as she began stuffing dresses into her duffel bag carlessly. She scraped together the few pieces of jewlery and cosmetics she stole from the Waldorf-Astoria hotel, simply raking them onto the clothes in her bag. They clattered and rolled down to the edges. Jack was stuffing undershirts, button ups, and trousers into another bag.

"We still have to stop at the bank," Jack glanced over his shoulder towards Rose, "Do you have the key for the safety deposit box?"

Rose lifted the keyring from her waistband, showing him the second key he hadn't noticed before, "I do. Let's hurry."

Rose hoisted her duffel bag over her shoulder and looked around the apartment once more. She fumbled with her keyring, her hands shaking from her exertion. She pulled the apartment key off and set it on the kitchen island, slowly taking a step back. Jack paused from stuffing a shirt into his own bag and watched the back of Rose. He came up behind her, pulling the duffel bag off her shoulder and letting it clunk to the ground. He turned her around, gripping her arms beneath his palms.

"Is this what you want?" Jack asked, his blue eyes dead serious, "Are you absolutely sure? And before you answer," He lifted his palm to her jaw, gently passing his thumb over her lips, "Please, take a moment and think, Rose. Do you want to leave Annette so soon? What about your job? I don't want you to do anything you don't want to. I want you to tell me the truth."

Rose was trembling beneath his touch. She melted into him, her shakey hands reaching for Jack. Her fingers fumbled over his shirt, gripping him and bringing him in closer. Rose held herself against Jack, their eye contact never breaking. He was watching her intently, his fingers now knotted through her windblown curls.

"I have never wanted anything more in the world," Rose whispered, her voice faintly hoarse, "I want nothing more than for you and I to leave, Jack. There's an entire world out there waiting for us. If I even think of letting life hold me back, next thing I know I'll be an old woman, unable to do anything for myself. That might seem a long time away, Jack, but it's not. Time and life just slip through our fingers, like sand. For once in my life, I don't want the time to slip away. When I'm with you, it's almost like everything stands still. Everything just seems... _right._ And I'm not about to let anything hold me back from this."

Jack's eyes glimmered in the overhead light. He crushed his lips against her forehead, exhaling unevenly. He wrapped his arms completely around Rose, "I want to make you happy, Rose. I'll do anything in the world for you," Jack tilted his head down, his hot breath brushing against her ear. She smiled into his chest as tears ran down her cheeks, "If you want to live in Italy, I'll make it happen. If you want to be a doctor, I'll support you to the end. Nothing is going to stop you from living your best life. I'll work as many jobs as I need to. I will not sleep until your stomach is full and you're warm."

"Jack," She lifted her head to look into his eyes, which were equally as wet as her's, "you don't _have _to do any of that. We're partner's. Everything is fifty-fifty. I'll work for you. I'll feed you. I'll take care of you... as long as you do the same for me."

"I will do anything for you," He said, shaking his head, "Anything," Jack brought his hand up to her cheek to whisk her tears away, "Just tell me how high to jump, Rose."

Rose grinned at Jack, "If you're jumping... then I'm jumping, too."

...

The sky was beginning to turn sherbert as the sun was setting on the city. Jack was standing on a street corner, a cloud of smoke trailing from his mouth. He tapped the ash off his cigarette and shifted the weights of the bags on his shoulder. He glanced to many people in suits walking home, ending their days at the office. Jack felt as if his day was only just starting.

The sound of heels on pavement drew Jack's attention over his shoulder. Rose was exiting the bank with her hands dug into the pockets of cream peacoat. She glanced back and forth as she came to stand beside Jack, who handed her his cigarette. She accepted it, taking a drag. Jack's eyes were drawn to the filter, where he inspected the lipstick smudge she left.

"We'll need to find a jewelry store quickly," Rose said, her eyes darting towards the sky, "They'll be closing soon."

"There's bound to be one on the way towards the train station," Jack replied as Rose handed him the cigarette back. He took a light puff.

"Even if we don't make it anytime, we can still leave," Rose glanced towards Jack, "Annette gave me my paycheck from the hospital. We'll have enough for the time being."

Jack grinned and dropped the cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe back and forth. He laced his fingers through Rose's hand, "Then away we go, right? Let's see what's leaving right now," They began walking towards the train station. Rose felt so jittery at the thought, "Let's not even think about it. Let's just take the train going the furthest tonight."

"God, I hope it's far," Rose told him with an ear-to-ear grin.

As they walked, Rose's free hand dug into her coat pocket, her fingers grazing over the Heart of the Ocean. The moment she sold it, she felt those would be the last of the rusty shackles hanging on her. She knew it would mean she's free. She would unlock herself from the cage and fly far, far away. They rounded a street corner and Jack drew her from her thoughts.

"Right there. There's a jewelry store," He said, pointing towards the sign.

"It's still open," Rose breathed a sigh of relief. Jack held the door open for her. Their hands parted as they entered the quiet shop. There were two other men looking at rings and watches. The cases were smudge free and lighted brightly to make all the different metals glisten. The carpet was a light cream and softened the sounds of their shoes. Rose slowly approached the counter. Jack hung back to look at some displays.

"How may I help you, ma'am?" The man in the tuxedo said from behind the counter. He set down his looking glass, pausing from inspecting a cracked diamond atop a ring.

"Yes, I, uh, I have something I'd like to sell to you," Rose said leaning in and speaking quietly. She glanced the direction of the distracted men and then rustled into her pocket, holding the blue diamond face up in her palm.

"Good... good Lord," The man behind the counter breathed, leaning in closer, "What is this?" His brown eyes darted to Rose's. Her eyes never left the diamond.

"It's a very rare diamond. Given to me by someone I hate," Rose lifted her eyes now, "Please, you must take away the burden. It's very heavy, but someone else would love it. But not me," Shakily, she placed the diamond in the man's hand, whose mouth was agape as he inspected it.

"Ma'am... it's probably worth thousands," The man whispered.

"What can _you _give me for it?" Rose asked, her eyes glassy in the bright lighting.

"One moment," He said, "I have to take it in the back to inspect it. I'll be right back."

The man turned on his heels and left through an archway, holding the diamond close to him, like it was a wounded baby bird. Rose exhaled a breath, pressing her palms to the glass. She looked to inspect her shaking hands, but her eyes gazed into the displays instead.

"Hey," Jack appeared beside her, "I have a really good idea."

"Oh, and what's that?" She asked, her heart rate resuming to normal amongst feeling his presence.

"Let's say they can't give you a lot for the diamond," Jack shrugged, "Let's get them to throw these in, too," Jack pointed in front of them at the display to a set of two gold rings. One was a simple band with a ridged edge. The other was a slim and was designed to look like golden vines and leaves, leading up to a modest diamond shining on top, "I think these should be our wedding rings."

Rose looked to Jack, watching how the light beneath him lit him up. He really was an angel, she was convinced. Her guardian angel who had come to life, became one in the flesh right in front of her. She knew she could never take this chance for granted. He was smiling down on the rings, certain they were the ones.

"Yeah," Rose whispered, looking back to the rings, "I think they're perfect, Jack."

The clerk came from the back a moment later with a pouch secured under his arm. He laid the diamond out on the glass counter in front of Rose, "It's tremendous. Absolutely flawless," He told Rose, "I've never seen a diamond of this color. I can't imagine I'd have a hard time selling this," The clerk set the pouch on the counter, "I can give you $500 for this. That's top dollar for me, Ma'am."

Rose's eyes darted to the gold rings, "Can I have that money and those two rings right there?"

The clerk looked over to inspect the rings and only thought for a moment, "Yes. That sounds fair."

Rose grinned as he took the rings out, placing them in a velvet box lined with silk. He snapped the box shut and handed it over the counter. Jack was the first to take hold of it. Rose looked to Jack with arched eyebrows as he immediately tucked the box into one of their bags. The clerk began counting the money out.

"Savin' these for a special occasion," Jack said with his crooked grin.

...

The cicadas were chirping loudly and the stars were beginning to break through the depleting daylight as Jack and Rose hurried on to the train station. Rose now had her duffel bag slung over her shoulder and it repeatedly thunked against the back of her thighs. Her hand was clasped in Jack's as they crossed the street and got honked at by a car. But they were laughing, with face-cracking grins, as they scurried down the sidewalk, oblivious to everyone around them.

"Can you believe it!?" Rose squealed with delight, her cheeks rosy from the chilly evening air, "Five-_hundred _dollars, Jack! That's plenty for us to start new! To really get somewhere!"

Jack brought their clasped hands up and kissed her knuckles, "I know, it's almost a dream. The horizon is ours, now."

Jack and Rose bustled up the train station steps and they both took a moment to release a long-winded breath. Not many people were lingering. Jack squinted as he glanced to the departing trains board, which had a lemony glare from the streetlight.

"Only one more train," Jack said, towing Rose after him as they approached the sign.

"Which train?" She asked, coming to stand beside him. She cocked her head up to the board and re-read the signs multiple times, not sure if she was seeing it correctly.

"This is the last train out tonight," Jack said, looking towards the shiny black train sitting in the station.

"And it's going to..." Rose's eyes were locked on the board, "Philidelphia."


	39. Wayward

Chapter Thirty-Nine

_May 10th, 1912_

Outside the train windows, it was absolutely pitch black. The milky moonlight only allowed the slightest of light to shed on the towering pine trees that the train was chugging past. The stars glittered across the sky, scattered. Rose was sitting by the window, allowing the bobbing train to nudge her back and forth. She almost laughed at the irony. She had put up such a fight, refusing to leave New York City on a train to Philidelphia, and now, here she was.

Jack placed his hand on her thigh, drawing her away from the window. The cabin was dimly lit to allow passengers to sleep. The two themselves were sharing a fleece blanket an attendant had given them. Jack pressed his forehead to her's and breathily asked, "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Rose sighed, placing her hand on top of his, running her fingers over the grooves between his bones, "I'm not upset, if that's what you think," She whispered, "I actually think it's a good thing I see my mother. What she said the last time we were together... well, I only hope she meant it."

Jack smiled at her, his blue eyes glinting in the bucking light of the train. He pushed a curl away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, "I hope she meant it, too," He whispered. She watched his mouth slowly. She brought her hand up, her thumb tracing the edges of his lips. Rose lifted her green eyes boldly to meet his.

"If she didn't mean it... then I don't care," Rose told him, quietly, "She can dislike me all she wants. Blame me for it, I don't care. Whatever will ease her burden. Because for me, Jack... I'm free. I'm finally free from that life. I don't care if she doesn't like you, that just means there's more for me."

Jack chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her closer beneath the blanket. His hands were flat to her back, her hands now gripping at the collar of his shirt. He seemed so unphased, always wearing a grin. It was amazing to Rose how sturdy he was. The earth could tremble beneath his feet and he would be completely unaffected. And his invincible attitude was nearly infectious. But in the next moment, he was surprising her, as usual.

"Look at you," He whispered, nudging his forehead against her's lovingly, "Do you hear yourself? You're so strong, Rose. This is the woman I fell in love with. The one who won't let herself be bothered by everyone around her. You're the girl who does what she wants, when she wants to. You don't take no for an answer. You've got more bite than bark. This is really you, Rose."

Rose's eyes darted between Jack's, "Why did it take me so long to find, then?"

"You can't rush anything," Jack told her, his hair falling over his bold brows, "and you never know what you're good at until you try it," Jack brought his fingers to her lips, to silence her coming answer, "I never want to hear you say it was me who found it for you, Rose. When I came around, you were already on the brink of it. You were a girl who was pushed too far. All I did was make you switch to Plan B. The one where you survive."

"Do you remember in the courthouse," Rose whispered, leaning her head against the seat, "when I said I had prayed to God for a sign this wasn't the end? I had asked him to please, send me the guardian angel that He had given so many of His people in the Bible," Rose lowered her eyes, toying with a button on Jack's shirt, "He sent me you, Jack. He gave you that full-house so you could come to me. So you could light the way," She lifted her eyes to meet his again, "I don't want you to ever think you did not save me. Because you did, Jack. You're my guardian angel."

Jack was speechless. He pulled Rose in closer, cradling her to his chest. He kissed her vibrant red curls multiple times, squeezing her tightly. All Jack could do was simply hold her. She fit perfectly against him, like their bodies were carved for each other. Jack's eyes looked out the window to the full moon glaring down onto them. He kissed the top of Rose's head again, resting his cheek against her.

...

_New York City, New York_

Cal was smoking a cigarette on the dark steps of the courthouse. He was seated, his elbows ground into his knees. The jury was still out for debate. Cal noticed Rose's blonde-haired friend had stuck around and was staying close to Lenny. Cal also noticed that Jack and Rose had never returned. Smoke trailed from Cal's mouth as he looked out over the city. It was so quiet and still. It was everything opposite of how he felt on the inside.

_"I always win, Dawson." _

Cal rubbed his eyes deeply, ash carelessly falling onto the shoulder of his jacket. He let out a sigh, his eyes blazeningly red. He listened to the distant fountains, gazing the direction of the park. During the recess, he had seen Jack and Rose wrapped up in each other's arms. The scene replayed in his head, tearing his heart to shreds.

_I lost to you, Dawson._

Cal felt he already knew the obvious. Rose had taken off, never to be seen again. She didn't care to hear the outcome. At this point, Cal didn't even care. He was so exasperated with himself. He had dug himself in so deep, he knew there was no way to climb out. He had dug himself straight into Hell. The door to the courthouse swung open, illuminating the back of Cal. He saw his shadow stretch across the stairs. He remained hunched forward, his eyes watching the ribbon of smoke drifting away from his cigarette. The sound of heels clattered on the pavement and he watched as Lenny and the blonde-haired girl began descending the steps. Cal's heart throbbed in his chest.

"Have... have they made a decision?" He called shakily after the couple, who both paused. They turned to face Cal.

"No," Lenny replied. Cal released a breath he didn't know he was holding, "They've decided to let it rest for the evening. They'll pick back up tomorrow morning."

"Will... will Rose be there?" Cal asked, lowering his cigarette.

"No," Lenny said again, "She is no longer needed, Mr. Hockley. Good night."

The two turned and continued down the stairs, walking into the darkness of the park and disappearing. Cal was all alone again. He tossed his cigarette away, watching the embers bounce down the steps. He raked his hands through his hand and hunched forward again, pressing his palms to his face. He let out a horrendous sob. It echoed through the marble pillars of the courthouse. He didn't care if anyone heard or saw. Cal cried into his hands, screaming his throat raw. He cried openly, hideously, unashamed. He knew now that he had lost everything. Every chance, every opportunity. He blew it. Images of Rose flashed behind his eyes, which were hot with salty tears. Cal pressed his forehead to his knees, his tears dripping off the end of his nose. The most frequent image he saw was Rose, in her peacoat, walking out of the courtroom after she finished on the stand. He could see her curls bouncing on her shoulders, which were squared. Her head was tilted up as she left confidently. And then Cal could see _him. _Rising from his seat and waiting for Rose. Pressing his hand to her back to assist in guiding her from the room. It was the last moment he saw Rose and figured, it was the last forever.

"Rose," He choked, his teeth chattering, his whole body trembling, as he attempted to get a hold on himself. But the sobs continued ripping up his chest, the tears continued to flow. Cal took a deep uneven breath, trying to stop his blubbering, "Rose... my darling," His voice was hitched in his throat as he looked to the city with his bleary tear-filled sight, "Please... come back..."

...

Rose's eyes flew open. She and Jack had fallen asleep. She was leaned up against the window, a pillow gingerly tucked behind her head. Jack was lolled up against her, his arm falling over her waist, his head against her side. Rose blinked rapidly, looking out the dark window. A strange cool feeling had come over her. As if someone had just said her name, startling her awake. Slowly, she untensed her body, so as not to wake up Jack.

Rose pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the window, the train bucking her back and forth. She wondered if everything had been settled in New York City. She wondered what kind of headlines awaited her at the next newspaper cart. She also wondered... what would happen to Cal. Despite feeling as free as a bird, she felt the need to fly over what was once her imprisonment. To know what kind of destruction she left. She knew she'd never go back, but she would be endlessly curious as to what would become of the life she had left behind.

Rose let out a sigh and settled back in. She had no idea how much time they still had left on the train. She was nervous and excited for the pending future. Her eyes lowered to their hurriedly packed duffel bags, full of, probably now, wrinkled clothing, a wad of cash, stolen cosmetics... and wedding rings. Rose felt goosebumps pucker along her skin at the idea of the rings. Waiting for her, just below that zipper, was her entry into her new life. One where she wasn't just an honorary Dawson, but an actual one. She grinned, running her hands through Jack's hair and resting her hand on his shoulder. He only stirred slightly. She rest her head back into her pillow, staring forward at the approaching dark pine trees. Rose decided to close her eyes, hoping that the next time she opened them, they would be in Philidelphia.

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Ruth was just sitting down for breakfast outside on the porch leading towards the garden. She was dressed, her face washed, ready for the new day. She was eager to hear the verdict from the jury and had tossed and turned all night thinking of the impending news. Ruth took a sip of her tea and reached for the margarine when she was interrupted by a maid.

"Miss DeWitt Bukater," The maid said from the french doors left open to allow the fresh morning air into the house, "There are visitors at the door."

"This early?" Ruth sighed, spreading the margarine on a piece of toast, "And during breakfast? My, does the gossip-mill have no manners? Tell them to come back later. I still am not in the mood for any visitors," Many people had come to knock on Ruth's door upon seeing Cal and Rose's names plastered across the papers. Ruth had sent them all away.

"Ma'am, it's not a neighbor," The maid told her, fiddling with the sash of her apron, "It's your daughter and another gentleman."

"Rose?" Ruth was to her feet in a second, making all the plates jump on the table, "It's Rose, you said? Bring her back here. Tell her to join me for breakfast," The maid curtesied and disappeared back into the house. Ruth adjusted the brooch at the collar of her blue dress and then smoothed her skirt. She seated herself, putting two more plates on the table. She snapped her fingers to a maid who was trimming a rose bush in a pot by the door, "Bring two more tea cups and more toast. Oh, and some orange juice, hurry, hurry!" That maid scurried off as well. Ruth filled her tea cup and fiddled with the toast on her plate, waiting impatiently for Rose to appear on the porch.

_What is she doing here? She should be in New York, _Ruth thought as she watched a hummingbird flit by, _She should be there, smiling, when Cal is sent away._

Ruth folded her hands together, resting her elbows against the table. The maid returned with orange juice, toast, and tea cups clattering back and forth on saucers. Ruth placed her hand on her wrist as she adjusted the spread on the table, "Have some scrambled eggs whipped up. If we have anymore bagels, bring them, and cream cheese, as well. Get a pot of coffee brewing."

"Yes, ma'am," The maid nodded.

"Do we have any fruit?" Ruth called after her, making her stop in her tracks, "If we have berries or bananas, please bring some as well. If she's been on a train, she will be hungry."

"Yes, ma'am," The maid disappeared through the doors.

Ruth tapped her foot impatiently yet again. She let out a huff, leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. She watched the few clouds in sky drift by slowly. The weather was nice that morning, giving some what of a cheer in her mood. But now, anxiety had set in. So many questions were loaded at the tip of her tongue and she was more hungry for answers than she was the big breakfast she had demanded be cooked.

Ruth finally heard footsteps and she came from her chair, turning around. She felt the blood pulsing beneath her skin as she watched her daughter walk out into the sunlight. She was grinning, her pearly teeth showing bright. Her red hair was vibrant in the morning light. Ruth immediately began towards her, "Rose," She said breathily, wrapping her arms around her daughter. She laid a soft kiss on Rose's cheek, "Why are you here?"

"I couldn't stay a moment more in New York City," Rose told her. She then looked over her shoulder, gesturing towards someone. Ruth's eyes darted that direction as Jack sheepishly emerged into the sunlight as well, his hands dug deep in his trouser pockets. Ruth stared at Jack for a moment, parting from Rose.

"Hello, Jack," Ruth said, rather stiffly, "It's... good to see you again."

"Likewise, ma'am," His voice nearly faltered.

"Why don't you two sit down and eat," Ruth gestured towards the garden table, "I have more food on the way. Did you come by train?" She asked as she seated herself. Jack and Rose slowly came around the table and found themselves a seat as well. Rose poured herself a glass of orange juice. Jack opted for tea, to Ruth's surprise.

"Our train arrived this morning," Rose told her after taking a refreshing sip of juice.

"I certainly was not expecting you," Ruth said, taking a dainty bite of her toast, "Why didn't you call? And why did you come to Philidelphia?"

"It was all on a whim," Rose replied, looking to her mother in the brilliant afternoon light, "My part in the court case is over. I certainly wasn't going to linger any longer than I had to. There was only one train leaving New York last night and its destination was Philidelphia."

"Are you heading anywhere in particular?" Ruth asked, arching her eyebrows.

Rose shrugged, looking towards Jack who was buttering a piece of toast. He was doing anything to try to off-set the awkward feeling he had, having breakfast with Ruth at Rose's childhood home. He glanced towards the tall dark house gleaming in the morning light. In a way, it was almost like Rose's childhood prison. He nearly shuddered at the thought.

"No where in particular," Jack finally said, looking to Ruth, "The West Coast sounds promising."

"The West Coast?" Ruth echoed, "What on earth is out there?"

Jack cracked a lop-sided grin, "A new opportunity, I suppose, ma'am."

Before Ruth could respond, two maids came out onto the porch, setting multiple plates down. There were plates of freshly warmed pieces of bread and bagels. A plate of sliced bananas with raspberries and blueberries. A saucer of cream cheese, a plate of steaming scrambled eggs. It all seemed like enough for a party in Rose's opinion. Jack's eyes were wide as he watched the buffet of food be set down. It was like those proper breakfast's he had read about in the New Yorker. The maids poured everyone a hot cup of coffee and then disappeared.

"Ruth- wow, thank you," Jack was still flabberghasted as he helped himself to a bagel, scraping berries and eggs onto his plate. He grinned her direction, surprising her, "This all looks really good. It was very kind of you to have this made for us. Really, thank you."

"I imagine you two were famished," Ruth said, bringing her tea cup to her lips, so blind sided by Jack's gratefulness, "It was the least I could do," She paused, lowering her tea, looking between Jack and Rose, "I'm glad you two came by."

"Yeah, me too," Jack laughed as he popped a raspberry into his mouth. Ruth felt the smallest smile twitch at her lips, but she busied herself by drinking some tea. Rose noticed, however, and felt herself grinning, too.

Ruth set her tea cup down and took some banana slices for herself. The three dined in silence. Ruth's eyes constantly darted to Rose and Jack, examining every movement they made. She watched as Jack ate politely, keeping his elbows off the table. He drank his tea and some of his coffee with a big smile on his face. She had remembered always seeing him with a grin aboard the _Titanic. _Jack raked his hair back from his face as he took a crunchy bite out of his bagel that was lathered in warm cream cheese. Ruth was beginning to realize that how she remembered Jack was wrong all along. She seemed to have thought he was some archaic ape of a man. But the man she saw now was put together, cool and collected. When she saw the way Rose looked at him, she couldn't help but think herself to be a fool. She had acted wrongly. She had promised Rose they'd never have a year like 1909 and yet, she had allowed it to happen. But Jack seemed to be pulling her out of that rut they had created. Ruth swallowed her toast roughly and cleared her throat.

"Jack," Ruth said, despite it still feeling foreign in her mouth. He arched his bold brows and looked to her, tearing himself away from his breakfast. Ruth lowered her hands to the table and thought for a moment, "do you intend on marrying my daughter?"

Jack's smile never wavered as he took his time chewing and swallowing the breakfast in his mouth. He nearly perked up at the question. He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his mug of coffee, blowing the steam away from the rim, "Yes, Ruth, in fact, I do."

"When?" Ruth asked, folding her hands together, "I'm hoping you'll say sooner than later. I don't like the idea of you two, unwed, heading out into this world."

"I was waitin' for the right moment," Jack told her after drinking some coffee.

"When will that be?"

"I'm guessing sooner rather than later," Jack smiled.

"It's very important to me to see Rose wed," Ruth said, glancing towards her daughter, "She's my only child, Jack, and I care a great deal about her. You're not my first pick... but if you make her happy, I'd like to see her marry you."

"Mother," Rose said, "don't tell him that."

"No, it's okay," Jack shrugged, "Why _would _I be her first pick?" Jack looked back to Ruth, "I respect what you want, Ruth. If you give me some time, I promise you'll get what you want."

"Will you stay in Philidelphia until you two are married?" Ruth asked, "Please, it's all that I ask before you two leave. You can stay with me until everything is finished."

"On one condition," Jack set his mug on the table. Ruth arched her eyebrows at him expectingly, "Rose gets the last say with everything in the wedding. She gets to decide how many, if any, come. She gets to pick out her wedding dress. She decides everything. I want it to be her dream wedding. I want her to be in charge."

Ruth looked to Rose who was gazing at Jack with so much admiration in her eyes. Ruth nodded, looking back towards Jack, "That sounds fair."

"Then it's a deal," Jack nodded, "We'll let you know when we're ready to proceed."

"When you're ready?" Ruth echoed, nearly incredulously, "We should begin now."

"No, no," Jack leaned closer to Ruth, lowering his voice, "Let me do this right, Ruth. Let me propose to her."

Ruth's face was not far from Jack's now. Her eyes shimmered in the light as she watched Jack's playful blue eyes. He was still smiling, the wind gently brushing his hair across his forehead. Ruth cleared her throat, "You are something else, Jack Dawson."


	40. Strangers

Chapter Forty

_May 11th, 1912_  
_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

After breakfast, Rose guided Jack with their bags to her old childhood bedroom. Her hand gripped the brass doorknob as she prepared herself to enter. She hadn't been in her room in about a year. She opened the door and walked through, her breathing hitching in her throat. Nearly everything was still in place. She wandered through the room aimlessly, while Jack soaked in his surroundings. She had her own bathroom, her own balcony. It was nearly the size of the entire house he had grown up in. He found it rather comfy, but knew the sight was deceiving to how Rose actually grew up. Rose was inspecting her bookcase, which was jammed packed with books, many more shoehorned in all the odds and ends.

Jack set the bags on the bed and walked to the french doors, pulling the curtain back to see the garden from a higher view. It was spectacular, large, with many winding paths between the vibrantly blooming bushes. Jack decided to open all the curtains, allowing light to fall across the room. To his surprise, there was no dust, but he had to remind himself of the maids, which were crawling all over the place.

Rose crossed to her bed, running her hand over the familiar silky sheeks that had soaked in many of the tears of her youth. She paused, however, staring at her night table. Her eyebrows knit together as slowly she approached the table. Jack turned away from the view out the window to watch her. There was a picture frame laying crooked on the table. Rose's slender fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the frame, lifting it up. She slowly ran her fingers over it, trying to remember what picture was in it. And then it came to her. There had been a photo of Cal and Rose on the day of their engagement in the frame. It had been taken just down below in the garden. Where had the picture gone? Had her mother ripped it to shreds? Rose lowered the picture frame and with a perplexed look, glanced to her other nightstand. The drawer was slightly open. Rose set the picture frame down and rounded the bed to further inspect. Still, Jack only just watched.

Rose yanked the drawer open to see a black leather bound book staring back at her. It was obvious it had been rifled through. Rose pulled the book out, thumbing through the pages of her intimate thoughts chronicling 1910-1912 of her life. She caught snippets of her handwriting, sad memories echoing through her mind. Rose slowly lifted her eyes, looking towards Jack.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked, snapping the book shut.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," Jack began patting his pockets, tossing her a silver lighter, which she caught deftly. She crossed to the fireplace which was situated on a slanted wall beside the french doors leading to her balcony. She piled some wood into the fireplace, setting the book on top. Quickly, Jack came to her side, "Hey, what are you doing? What are you burning?"

Rose flicked the lighter, catching a piece of newspaper on fire. She allowed the fire to hungrily consume it for a moment before she tossed it on the wood. It eagerly began to eat everything in the fireplace. She looked up to Jack from where she knelt, "I'm burning memories."

"Was that a photo album?" Jack's eyes only watched the smoke begin to bellow up the chimney as the edges of the leather bound journal began to curl.

"No. It was a diary," Rose replied, now sitting criss-cross on top of the brocade carpet to watch. She leaned back on her arms looking towards Jack, "There were things in there that didn't matter anymore. Things the world didn't need to know."

Jack was about to join her on the floor in watching the diary burn when suddenly Ruth came through the door, startling them both. Ruth glanced towards the hallway for a moment, before beckoning them with her hand, "Quickly, come to the library. They're announcing the verdict," The three bustled down the hallway into the room. Rose looked around at the tall ceilings and tall windows. The many places to study or simply curl up with a book and read. The endless shelves. Rose suddenly remembered how much she had loved the library. But Ruth, interrupted her thoughts, "Hurry, Rose, come on," She demanded. She was sitting in her tall leatherback chair, Jack was squatted down on an ottoman, leaning in as Ruth raised the volume.

"... the twelve-man jury is returning to the courtroom," A journalist was reporting into his microphone quietly, "Caledon Hockley is on the hook for three charges; intent to harm, disarming a fire arms in a government facility, and attempted murder. If he is found guilty of attempted murder, he faces life in prison..." There was silence as now the journalist also observed. Then, there was shifting as he fumbled to lift his microphone up in time. The court room was realtively silent, save a few coughs and creaking benches.

"The jury may now read it's verdict," Judge Peters strong voice resounded through the room. Rose felt every ounce of heat in her body melt away. Her skin puckered into goosebumps. Slowly, she stepped closer to where Ruth and Jack sat. She stood directly behind Jack, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder. Without looking, without even thinking, Jack raised his hand up, taking hold of hers and squeezing it tightly. His eyes remained locked on the radio as he heard shoes and shifting in the court room.

"We the jury find Caledon Andrew Hockley... guilty of intent to harm and guilty of discharging a firearm in a government facility," The jury man reading cleared his throat.

"Yes, excellent," Ruth licked her lips, grinning.

"... and _not_ guilty of attempted murder."

Gasps and murmers broke out in the courtroom. Jack was greatly surprised, his eyebrows arching upwards. He looked towards Rose who was only frozen, staring at the radio. Ruth looked upset, shaking her head back and forth.

"Order, order in my court," Judge Peters slammed his gavel down, "Now, Mr. Hockley, I hereby sentence you to six months in the Pittsburgh county jail, one hundred and fifty community service hours, and twelve months of probation," His gavel collided with the pad once more, "Court dismissed."

"And the court system fails again," Ruth growled, flicking the radio and crossing her arms over her chest, "Any fool can see he deserves to rot in prison, especially after what he's done to our family! It was the least he could do."

Jack glanced towards Ruth, rubbing his hands together. He could see she was altogether in a different mindset. It was an interesting Ruth to see and he wondered, how long could she stay like this before returning to her old ways of holding a grudge against her own flesh and blood? How long would her anger be directed at Cal for, before she simply forgot about him?

However, a sudden noise drew Jack and Ruth's attention towards Rose. Jack's blue eyes were wide as he watched Rose... laugh? She was grinning, chuckling, her red curls bouncing on her shoulders. She turned and walked straight out of the room. Both Jack and Ruth made tense, wide eye contact. Jack was off the ottoman in a moment, following Rose down the hall to her room. She entered, throwing the door open and walking back to the fireplace. The journal was completely gone now and only a healthy fire cackled.

"Rose?" Jack stood in the doorway for a moment before closing the door and slowly coming around the bed, gripping one of the wood bedposts, "Are you alright?"

Rose was grinning at the fire. She slowly raised her head and turned towards Jack, "I am okay," She told him, coming towards him now, "Jack, it's magnificent."

"What?" Jack was absolutely confounded, "What is?"

"I didn't _ruin _Cal's life!" Rose said, her green eyes bright and jubilant, "He serves a little time, gives back to the community, and stays off drugs. It will be terrible for him, but I can rest knowing..." She let out a content sigh, "I steered him towards getting help. I got away and didn't completely derail him. He will be fine, Jack."

"Well, I guess that's just good karma for you, huh," Jack wrapped his arms around Rose's shoulder, drawing her in and kissing her on the forehead, "I'm glad you're happy with the sentencing. I was worried there for a moment that you went mad."

"Oh... maybe only slighty," She grinned up towards Jack from where her head rest against his arm. His blue eyes glinted mischeviously as he looked down on her. He dipped his head to meet her lips. It was a firm and passionate kiss. One that, to Rose, felt like a promise that _finally _everything really would be okay.

...

_New York City, New York_

Cal stood in the sitting room of his hotel, absolutely still. Around him, there was jubilation between Nathan and Ethan who eagerly awaited a bottle of champagne to arrive to their room. Despite the time and service Cal owed, Ethan and Nathan seemed to have thought everything went well. They were charges the two felt confident in sweeping under the rug.

"Oh man, seeing Lenny's face at that not guilty charge really was the highlight of my career," Ethan was cackling as he got two cigars lit, handing one to Nathan, "I'm just gonna say it; I thought we were floundering there at the end, but alas, justice does not have a lazy eye!"

There was a knock at the door and quickly, Nathan answered it. A maid wheeled a silver cart in with a bucket of ice and a bottle of champagne, lapped in linen. There were three flute glasses clattering beside it as she wheeled towards the coffee table in the center of the room. Nathan handed her a twenty as she went, closing the door after her.

"Caledon!" Nathan boomed, puffing on his cigar, "I haven't heard a squeak from you since the courthouse. Why aren't you on your knees, shrivelling and thanking Ethan for what he did for you. You just dodge life in prison! Where's your gratitude?"

Cal felt absolutely catatonic inside and his eyes reflected it. Slowly, he turned to look at Ethan, who was rather preturbed by his gaze, "Thank you, Mr. Polacki. Very much," Cal said in a voice that lacked any rhythm.

"No problem, Caledon," Ethan replied, shuffling his feet, "I just, uh... hope this all helps you. Do you... do you want some champagne?" He raised a flute glass up in gesture.

"Sure," Cal replied, lifeless, turning his eyes on the bucket of ice. Ethan poured him glass, which Cal accepted. He then shuffled towards the couch and seated himself, taking the faintest sip before setting it on the table. He reached into his backpocket for his wallet, unfolding a picture from it. He pursed his lips to prevent them from quivering as he, for the thousands time, looked at the picture of him and Rose on the day of their engagement.

Ethan looked towards Cal, almost with pity. He could tell Cal was heartbroken more than anything. He realized that Cal maybe would have been better off going away for life. He certainly couldn't see how Cal could possibly go on like this. Nathan ground his teeth while poured himself a glass. He was annoyed with Cal, wondering when the hell he was going to snap out of his little act. Cal reached for his champagne, taking a bigger drink now, his eyes never leaving the picture. He hovered over Rose's crinkled face, looking at the smile on her lips.

"You need to rip that picture to shreds," Nathan said sharply, "You're harming yourself just by looking at it."

Cal looked at his father from beneath his bold brow, "I will _not _destroy this picture."

"What is it about Rose that entices you so much?" Nathan became eerily calm, drinking some of his champagne. He came to stand on the other side of the coffee table from Cal, his bushy eyebrows arched in anticipation, "I see the mess you are and wonder... what did I miss about that woman that drives men like you insane?" He took another sip of his champagne. Cal said nothing, "Is it those red curls? Her young tight skin? What about those emerald-green eyes? Was that it? You fancied her exterior looks? You were _that _bent up on having the prettiest little wife?"

"Rose was more than a pretty face," Cal came to his feet, nearly spilling his champagne. Ethan downed his glass in one swoop and poured himself another, "She was gentle and witty. She had the prettiest voice, did you ever listen to her in church?! She was polite and had many different interests. I loved her, Father. I loved her deeply. Not just because she was pretty, but because never once did she pretend to act a certain way for me. She was authentic, always, even if it was in opposition to me. I liked that kind of fire. I thought it was amusing and interesting-"

"God, you are stupid," Nathan shook his head and went to refill his glass, "What about any of that sounds 'amusing and interesting'? Where in the world did you get your taste in women? I told you, I should have just picked one for you. Why couldn't you have just married Glenda?"

"Glenda?" Cal scrunched his nose up at the thought, "Why would I marry Glenda?"

"Because she's your mother's best friend's daughter," Nathan growled, like it was obvious, "She's practically been in our family since you and her were born. Why couldn't you have just kept it simple and married Glenda? You know your mother would have wanted to hear that."

Cal tried to recall even the last time he spoke with or saw Glenda. It had to have been at the engagement party last year. Cal had never considered Glenda. They had grown up very closely and he saw her as more of a supportive sister than anyone he could ever marry. She was nice enough, but they were no more than playmates as children and now meerely adult acquaintances.

"Son," Nathan sighed now, "do you want to come back to the stock broker world?"

"Would you let me?" Cal asked hesitently.

"If you'll play by my rules and my rules only," Nathan told him.

"And the conditions?"

"First, you have to serve your time, your probation, and complete your hours," Nathan told him, which Cal nodded to, "Second, you'll come in on the floor. You're not getting your office back for some time. I want you to fight for those stocks again. I want to see it come alive in you once more, got it?" Cal only nodded, "And third, you're marrying Glenda. She's still unwed herself and, not to sound conceited, but it seems like the family is holding out their only daughter, waiting for _you_."

"Oh, spare me," Cal shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh, "Because they'll still want to give their daughter away to a man who has been highlighted as a jealous, envious, violent, wife-beater who shoots up hospitals and does drugs in alleyways!" Cal stomped his feet, "You can't pretend like everyone doesn't know, because they do. Every newspaper has a story about me as their headline. I think you _are _conceited assuming Glenda would even want to marry a monster like me!"

"If you even want a shot at inheriting my business, you'll follow my lead," Nathan told him sharply, "If you don't... well, I'm not coming back for you this time. Remember that."

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Jack was looking for Rose. She had slipped away some time after dinner. The house was so large, with many twisting hallways, that Jack found himself easily lost and confused. He peaked into several guest bedrooms, nearly enough to house two more nuclear families. He opened the doors to many closets, he began to wonder who would need so many. He finally peaked his head into a familiar room. The library. Ruth was sitting in the quiet room by herself, a cup of tea forgotten on the coffee table. She was leaned back in her chair, her body situated to look out the magnificent view their house on the hill had. You could see a large part of the blooming city of Philidelphia, glowing brightly in the nighttime. When she heard the door, she cast a glance Jack's direction.

"Sorry to interrupt," Jack cleared his throat sheepishly, "I was just wonderin' if you've seen Rose?"

"She's probably taking a walk in the garden," Ruth replied softly, "She's a creature of habit. It's what she'd do every night after dinner. And she never wants anybody to accompany her," Ruth smiled at the memories, "Please, come in, sit down. She'll come back when she's finished."

Jack glanced to the hallway once more before entering the library, closing the door, and joining Ruth at the table. The moonlight poured into the dimly lit room, casting shadows across Ruth. She looked out the window again, drumming her fingers against the arm rest of her chair.

"Jack, now that everything is said and done, there is something I've been wanting to say to you," Ruth kept her eyes glued to the window. Jack watched her carefully, his back stiffly pressed against the leather chair. Ruth finally got the courage to look Jack's direction, "I wanted to say... thank you."

"Thank you?" Jack echoed without even thinking. His felt his cheeks heat up, "I mean... what for?"

Ruth was silent for a few moments, lifting her hand to rest beneath her chin. Finally she took in a curt breath, breaking the silence, "I didn't know Rose had ever thought about killing herself on the _Titanic_. I had no idea such an event had even taken place. I was unaware, the maids were unaware... Cal was unaware. Nobody was there for her," Jack spied Ruth's glassy eyes in the darkness. Her voice was beginning to quiver, to her dismay, "But you were. And... Jack, I must thank God for having you in that place at that moment. I'd hate to think what would have happened if nobody had approached her. But you did."

"Well," Jack smiled crookedly, "it's kind of hard to ignore a pretty girl hanging on the wrong side of the railing in the middle of the ocean."

Ruth laughed lightly. Jack made it so easy to lighten the mood, "I suppose that was a sight to behold," Ruth sat up straight, "What did you say to her? What was it that made her come back over the railing?"

Jack was silent for a few moments as he reviewed those memories he had. He had gone over them dozens and dozens of times, remembering every second of what she did with him, what he saw. But every time he got to Rose promising to get off the boat with him, everything went black. Rose had told him stories of their survival together, but still, nothing was offered up by his brain. But still, he was grateful to have the happy memories with Rose on the _Titanic_, at the same time feeling guilty she had to live with the burden of those sights in her memory. He wondered if the memories of the sinking would ever come back to him.

"I told her about ice fishing," Jack finally said. He grinned at how ridiculous it sounded now, "I grew up in Wisconsin. It gets freezing there, sometimes below zero. But nothin' would stop me and my dad from going up the road to the little lake by our farm. We'd cut a hole in the ice and catch enough food to save us a trip to the market," Jack felt so warm and fuzzy recalling his happy adventurous childhood with his parents, "Anyway, I've fallen in before. The water was so cold. I was in there less than ten seconds, but the pain lasted much longer. I told Rose about that... and she changed her mind. All she needed to hear was something logical, something grounded, to counteract what she was feeling. I had a feeling I would get through to her."

"You have a way with people it seems," Ruth said quietly. Jack could see the slightest smile on her face, "All you do is simply see people and its as if you've known them your entire life."

"Everyone starts as a stranger, right?" Jack shrugged.

"Yes... I suppose they do," Ruth eyed him in the darkness before looking back out the window.

Conversation now fell to the wayside and two sat in a comfortable silence. Jack looked over the quiet city, humming with light and life down below. It seemed so far away on top of the hill. Jack glanced to Ruth who had her head resting in her hand again, watching the city below, despite nothing interesting happening.

"Do I... do I feel like a stranger to you?" Jack asked boldly, nodding his head towards her.

Ruth lifted herself, perking at the question. She stared at Jack for a few seconds, before shaking her head and looking back out the window, "No. Not anymore."


	41. Water Lillies

_Author's Note: I'd like to credit poorlittlerichgirl91 for assisting in making the museum scene authentic. Her knowledge of art history cannot go unremarked._

Chapter Forty-One

_May 12th, 1912_  
_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Jack and Rose found themselves eating breakfast that morning in the front parlor that overlooked the neighborhood. The wall was nearly all windows. The brilliant morning light bled through the sheer curtains, some propped open to help air the house out. The small table they cluttered their dishes on was against the wall of windows. Jack scraped some eggs into a mound of his plate as he chewed, glancing out over the front lawn, that was well-trimmed and full of blossoming bushes, just like the sides and back of the house. Down the winding walkway, beyond the iron-wrought gate, Jack could see several well-dressed people taking a stroll that morning.

Distantly, through the open door of the parlor, the sound of the radio made its way down the hallway. Occasionally, Rose looked towards the door before jabbing a sausage and stuffing it in her mouth. Ruth's new favorite past time was being glued to the radio, hanging onto the words of every report about the hottest scandal in New York City. She listened to Cal's whereabouts as he stayed away from the public eye. They speculated many things about him; what he would do next, how he would serve his time, what was left for him. Rose occasionally heard her name amongst the mix, but she couldn't be bothered to know what they were saying about her. Obviously, it hadn't been much. She was certain any sort of speculation of Rose's character would not go unmentioned by Ruth.

Jack peered curiously at Rose from beneath his bangs as they finished their breakfast. Her green eyes were looking out the window as she drank from her mug of warm coffee. Her eyes looked brilliant in the morning light. Half of her wild red curls had been pinned to the back of her head, the rest left to tumble down her neck and spill over her shoulders. She licked her lips slowly, lowering her mug.

"Hey," Jack said, swallowing his mouth full. He looked to Rose with his lop-sided grin, "whaddya say you and I go out today? I've never been to Philidelphia before, to be honest. Maybe you'd like to be my tour guide and show me what kind of trouble we can get into?"

Rose smiled, still looking out the window. After a moment, she gave him a mischevious side eye, "Oh, I know where to take you. I want to show you my most favorite place in the entire city," Rose now grew excited, looking at Jack across the table with pupils that nearly danced, "It was the only place I could think for myself. The only place where I could have an actual opinion, whether I shared it with anyone or not, it was always valid at this place."

"Eat up, now you got me really excited," Jack laughed, popping a sausage link in his mouth.

...

Late morning was shaping up to be a warmer day. It was the first signs of summer to Jack. The couple descended the large hill the neighborhood was situated upon, stepping onto a street corner, which was shaded in tall overhanging trees. Jack glanced upwards to the leaves, seeing the first inklings of blooming flowers, ready to open up and soak in every last ray of the sun. Rose didn't even give her surroundings a second-look. She knew Philidelphia all too well.

"So, where are we going?" Jack asked, deciding to roll his sleeves to his elbow before he began sweating.

Rose kept her eyes on the indicator, waking for their moment to cross. She gave him a shy smile, "You'll see."

"You're gonna make me wait?"

"Haven't you done the same?"

"Touché," Jack let out a hearty laugh.

Finally, they began across the street. Jack looked to all the cars chugging along the roads. Subconciously, as he looked around, he took hold of Rose's slender hand, lacing their fingers through each other. Rose grinned, glancing towards their clasped hands as they continued down another hill, heading towards the flat downtown area of the city. Rose steered them around a corner. They crossed two more city blocks and make a sharp left at a wide intersection. Jack looked towards the tall buildings, amazed how much it reminded him of New York City. It was a truly magnificent thing to him, to see the world evolving how it was. To see mankind getting closer to touching the sky.

"There it is," Rose said, pointing across the street at a rather stout white building, with many wall length windows reflecting in the afternoon sun. Rose glanced over her shoulder before giggling and dragging Jack across the street, not even bothering to find a crosswalk. She was so excited, her step had picked up and she was nearly towing Jack behind her, an amazing feat for a girl easily six inches shorter than him, "It still looks the same as the last time I saw it!" Rose told him, her cheeks red from the walk. Slowly, the couple came to stop in front of the building.

Jack squinted his eyes to inspect it. He still wasn't quite sure what he was looking at it, but finally, he found the sign hanging on the far left end of the building. The Philidelphia Museum of Art. Jack smiled, placing his free hand on his hip, "This is the place?" He asked, arching his eyebrows. Rose only nodded, her eyes darting to every detail of the building, "So, this is where all your opinions are valid? The only place you could really think?"

"Well," Rose shrugged sheepishly, "the only place before _you _came along."

Jack lifted their clasped hands, placing a tender kiss on the back of her hand, "Let's go inside."

Jack held the door open for Rose as they entered the silent building. The silence was nearly defeaning to Jack. He was certain he'd hear someone drop a pen from a mile away in there. The museum only had a few other admirer's lingering inside because of the time of the week. Rose reached for Jack's hand again as slowly, they went through an archway in the foyer to enter a large wide-open space, with walls covered in paintings and pedastools precariously balancing 3-D sculptures. There were low hanging lights, each one a different shade. Jack felt his artistic energy increase, he felt instantly inspired the moment he glanced around the room.

"Wow..." Jack breathed. Rose threw him a grin.

"I know."

Rose gave him a tug and they approached the closest wall, ready to take their time and go one by one down the row, taking in all the detail, examining the style, admiring every single brush stroke. The first painting they approached was one of a woman with long wavy red hair. She was carelessly running a brush through her exuberant curls, her face looking anything but excited. She was wearing a loose white nightgown, which was falling over her shoulder.

"Oh, I know this one," Jack grinned, "'Lady Lilith' by Rossetti. I'd recognize it anywhere," Jack glanced to the plaque underneath to be sure. He looked towards Rose and then gave her a small pull forward to get closer, "It's funny, almost, how art can be sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Rose asked, tearing her eyes away from the painting.

"The meaning of paintings changes over time. What you see in the painting in one moment is only a reflection of things you know, what you're going through," Jack said, looking towards Lady Lilith, his smile never wavering, "When I looked at this painting in Vienna in 1909, I saw, what I believed to be, a sad woman. Given everything in the world. And I thought: what a spoiled brat," Jack now looked to Rose, raising her hand and allowing his lips to gently graze her knuckles, "But now, since I've met you, I know the true meaning of this painting."

"Oh?" Rose was smiling up at him, "And what you think the true meaning is, Mr. Artiste?"

"She may be given all the luxuries in the world... spoiled beyond belief... but that counts for nothing when you don't have anybody to truly care about you. People need security, they crave for love. Materials mean nothing in the end, when all we want is somebody to be close with," Jack told her. Rose could feel her heart beating in her chest. She had to hold her breath to keep her hand steady in his, "This painting... all of Rossetti's paintings... they're of you, Rose. A beautiful goddess, one that's too good for this world and everybody in it."

"Oh, Jack..." Rose lowered her eyes, her voice soft.

"These paintings mean something different to me, now," Jack said, scanning his eyes down the wall. Quickly, he towed her after him, "Here's Rossetti's 'The Beloved'. Again, I look at it and I see you," Jack raked his hair from his face and pointed to the next painting, "'Monna Vanna', look at her, dressed to the hilt, and still looking displeased. Exactly how I found you on the back of the _Titanic. _All I see is you. When I look at these women, I want nothing more than to take their hurt away... give them their shot at life. I feel the same thing when I look at you, Rose."

Rose brought her hand up, gripping Jack's arm, "You did, Jack. You've given me my shot."

"And I want you to hold on to that."

"I always will."

Jack grinned and looked towards the next wall, "Look, Rose," The couples foot steps echoed through the room of tall rafters as they came to the next artist, "It's a collection of Monet's Water Lillies," Rose felt her breathing shallow as she stood beside Jack, staring at the painting, "Absolutely remarkable," Jack crossed his arms over his chest, "If I ever painted, I'd want his feeble touches. The attention to detail is not overwhelming, but it's enough to give the scene distinction."

"It's amazing," Rose whispered, her eyes locked on the painting, "Every time he painted this pond... he saw something new. A different angle, a different time of day. He may have painted the same scene again and again, endlessly, but he never failed to make it something entirely new."

"Which one did you have on the _Titanic_?" Jack asked, nodding his head to the row of them.

"It's hard to tell," Rose rounded Jack and continued down the wall. He stared at the painting in front of him for a moment before following Rose's footsteps, "It's escaping me in the moment... but... I think it's this one," Rose stopped at the fourth painting on the wall, "This is the one I had. At least, I think it is," She looked to Jack.

"I think you're right," Jack nodded, squinting to admire all the meticulous detail Monet seemed to effortlessly provide.

"When I look at Monet's paintings, there's something I feel that I don't quite know what it is," Rose said, "Maybe it's a feeling of freedom... or serenity," She shrugged uselessly, "No one in my family ever quite understood where my passion for art came from... but no one understood that staring at a painting in absolute silence was heaven for me... an escape from reality," Rose's eyes were still locked on the painting, "And it's magnificent to me, Jack, that when I look at you, I get the same feeling," She was turning her head to look at him, but noticed he wasn't there. Her head snapped down, however, and that's when she saw Jack, knelt down on his knee, the ring they had picked out for her glinting before her. Rose felt her heart thudding in her chest.

"Rose DeWitt Bukater," Jack said, keeping his voice steady, "I knew from the moment I saw you, you were something else. I looked at you and all I saw was home. I've always been a tumbleweed in the wind, but you're finally the thing in life I've longed for to ground me. To bring me to the reality I've always wanted. You make me the happiest man alive. You're my grandest adventure, Rose. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," Rose said, breathily, tears cascading down her cheeks, "Of course, I will. A thousands time yes, Jack."

He smiled his signature lop-sided grin and gently took her shaking left hand into his, sliding the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, like it was made for her. Slowly, Rose raised her hand to admire it. It wasn't heavy. It didn't feel like a burden or any sort of imprisonment. To her, it was a promise. It was a piece of jewelry she never felt prouder to wear. The tears kept coming and she didn't stop them. Rose dropped to her knees in front of Jack, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"There's nothing I want more than to be your wife, Jack."

...

Ruth was sitting out in the garden as the orange sunset cascaded down on her. She was sat on a marble ledge beside a blossoming bush. She had taken a long needed break from the radio. She was nearly obsessed with the journalists reports of Cal's whereabouts. He had apparently been taking a train back to Pittsburgh this evening, but Ruth simply had to turn the radio off, find some peace and quiet, and think for herself.

Ruth plucked a daisy off the bush and fiddled with it in her hands. She glanced towards her large house and let out a huff. Jack and Rose had been gone nearly all day. She wondered where the two had gotten off to. They had left without a word. Ruth knew they were probably tired of hearing the radio, but she couldn't help herself. She was nosy by nature. Ruth glanced down to the daisy as slowly, she plucked petal by petal.

_This is when I lost John, _she thought, as she carelessly let the daisy petal tumble down the cobblestone path, _This is when Cal endangered my daughter's life, _another blew away with the gentle wind, _This is when Rose disappeared... and this one for when she returned to my life. _Ruth paused, watching the few daisy petals dance on the ground. She lifted the flower to her eyes, looking at the meager petals the poor thing had, _This is all I'm left..._

"Mother!" Came Rose's excited call into garden. Ruth was to her feet in a moment, her heels clacking as she came to the main path. Rose was standing on the porch, the biggest grin on her face. Upon seeing her mother, she piled down the stairs, "Jack proposed!" She excitedly held her hand out. Ruth had never seen Rose so jubilant. Her engagement to Cal came across as more of a chore, but in that moment, Ruth could see how delighted her daughter was.

"He did?" Ruth looked to the ring, then back to Rose's grinning face, "Excellent. That means we can start wedding planning."

"There isn't much to do," Rose told her, pushing some fiery curls from her face, "The guest list is just one person."

"And who might that be?" Ruth asked, squinting in the evening light.

"Annette Brown."


	42. Calming Waters

Chapter Forty-Two

_May 14th, 1912_  
_New York City, New York_

Annette rounded the corner that evening to see her apartment complex gleaming in the light. She let out a shallow sigh, fishing into her purse for her keys. She used to feel excited coming back home. In the month Rose stayed with her, she had loved every moment of it. Having someone to cackle with in the living room. Someone to drink and smoke with, be unlady-like with. Rose had been her long lost best friend and yet, she had to move on. Annette understood every reason behind it, but almost didn't want to accept it. She wished Rose could have stayed forever. She missed having Rose at work. The other nurse's were friendly, but nothing beat seeing Rose's shining smile in the hallway, the laughs they would have in the break room. Annette realized, in a way, she had loved Rose deeper. She loved Rose in a way the woman simply couldn't reciprocate. Annette loved Liz, but she loved Rose in such a different way, it was nearly astounding to her. All Annette could see were her fiery red curls bouncing on her shoulders, her full pink lips pursed, and her slender body curled up on her couch. She could recall the way her soft rounded cheek felt beneath her palm, the way her hands felt on her's. Annette let out another sigh, trying to shake the thoughts away.

She climbed the short flight of stairs and pulled a few envelopes from her mailbox, jabbing her key in the door and staggering in. Annette looked around the vacant living room, glancing towards the kitchen. She hung her purse on the hook and went to the kitchen, tossing her mail on the island. Immediately, she popped open a bottle of wine, carelessly kicking her shoes off and scrunching her stocking feet against the tile. Annette turned to sort through the mail and cast a glance towards her radio. She hadn't used it since Rose had left four days ago. She nearly missed the sounds of jazz humming in her apartment. Annette took a big gulp of wine and began looking through the mail, sorting the bills from letters. She paused, however, when she saw familiar handwriting.

It was addressed to Miss Annette Brown. Immediately, her eyes darted to the return address. It said Rose DeWitt Bukater. Annette set her wine glass down so fast, some of it spilled over the lip and dribbled down to the counter. She ripped the envelope open and withdrew a letter. Her hands were nearly shaking.

_Dearest Annette,_

_ How are you? I know it's only been a few days, but I miss you. I hope you're enjoying having your apartment back to yourself. I'll never be able to express my gratitude to you or ever thank you for what you did for me. I am writing to you to share the happiest of news. Jack has asked me to marry him. You know, naturally, I said yes without a moment of hesitation. We are holding a small ceremony in Philidelphia at my childhood home. I want you to stand next to me at the wedding, Annette. You are one of my greatest friends and nothing would mean more to me than if you were there. Without trying to understand anything, you took Jack and I in until we could get our bearings. You suffered through my sadness, my tears, without a second thought. You are so special to Jack and I, Annette. I have enclosed in the envelope a train ticket for Philidelphia, set to depart on May 16th. I hope this is not too short of notice. You can phone me if you'd like. Ask for Ruth DeWitt Bukater's estate._

_ I eagerly await to hear your voice._

_ Forever yours, Rose_

Annette reached into the envelope and withdrew the glossy ticket. She rubbed her fingers along it before returning to staring at Rose's neat loopy handwriting. Annette grinned and let out a content sigh, laying the letter down and taking a sip of wine. She was so happy to hear from Rose and even more delighted to hear the news, though she was not surprised. Jack was a good man. Annette knew Rose would be happy and safe with him. She twirled her wine glass between her fingers for a moment, thinking about the couple.

All she wanted was for Rose to be happy.

...

_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

"Rose, please, you cannot be serious," Ruth said, crossing her arms over her chest. They were standing in Rose's bedroom. Rose was at her closet doors, shifting through the many forgotten dresses hanging up. Jack was in the doorway, simply observing, "We can go out to an actual store. Don't be so stingy."

"I don't want to," Rose replied, not even casting a look towards her mother, "There's something in here. I know it."

"It's not proper," Ruth continued to push, "We should buy something just for the occassion!"

"Why?" Rose now stopped, looking over her shoulder, "Why waste money on something I'll wear for just a few hours, for only a few people? I already have one in mind."

"Which one, then?" Ruth asked, growing impatient.

Rose reached far into the back of her closet, shoving more and more dresses out of the way. She couldn't believe she owned so many. She had been living out of a trunk for who knows how long, she could barely even remember how she accumulated so many clothes. Finally, she found the dress she was looking for and pulled it from the closet. It was an ivory dress with lacy sleeves running towards the wrist. It had a sweetheart neckline adorned with white frill. The waistband had small jewels attached to it that glimmered in the evening light pouring through her open windows. She held it out towards her mother, the tulle on the circle skirt flowing in her grasp.

"This one."

"Where is that dress from?" Ruth crossed, taking it into her hands. She had to admit it was lovely, but she was still displeased with the thought it wasn't an actual wedding dress. There was no volume. It was simply a form fitting dress.

"I bought this when the neighbor-boy, Michael, was being christened," Rose said, "Back in 1910. I've only worn it once. I think it will be perfect. What do you think?"

"Well... I suppose it will do," Ruth lifted her head from inspecting the dress and looked towards Jack, "You shouldn't be here looking at the wedding dress. It's supposed to be a surprise. That's the tradition."

"Oh, Mother," Rose lowered the dress. The skirt swept against the carpet beneath their feet, "What about any of this is traditional? I want Jack's opinion," Rose turned to Jack, holding the dress up, "What do you think?"

"You could wear anything and still be the most perfect bride," Jack grinned, leaning against the doorframe, "Hell, you could marry me in a white nightgown."

Rose chuckled at the thought, lowering her eyes to look at the dress, "I think this is the one."

Just then, a maid appeared beside Jack, nearly startling him. She apologized hurriedly and squeezed through the door, "Miss Rose, there's a phone call for you. The phone is in the front parlor."

"A phone call?" Rose laid the dress out onto the bed, "Who is it?"

"She said her name was Annette."

"Oh!" Rose's smile lit the room up and she looked to her mother, "I'll be right back. That must be my RSVP," Rose gave Jack's arm a squeeze as she followed the maid out the door and down the hall. Jack watched the last of her bright hair disappear from sight before he looked towards Ruth, who was still hovering over the dress, a nearly pensive look on her face.

Slowly, sheepishly, Jack wandered further into the room, swinging his lanky arms at his side. He crossed to the large picture window, gazing down on the garden below. He looked over his shoulder at the silent Ruth before licking his lips and saying, "I know this isn't how you'd normally do things, but... Rose is a simple girl. This is what she wants."

Ruth raised her eyes to look towards Jack. His blond hair and blue eyes were accentuated by the orange light bleeding into the room. Ruth came to the end of the bed, not daring to go a step closer to Jack. She glanced towards the window, "There's a lot about my daughter that I don't know, it seems. I used to think I knew her... but I don't."

Jack looked back out the window, too, digging his hands into his pockets, "It's, uh, not because you're a bad mother or anything. Rose has just always wanted something different. Sometimes we're just not born to the right life. She loves you, Ruth, but it's time to let the little bird fly. She'll be okay."

"Do you promise to make sure she writes me?" Ruth asked, somewhat shaky, "She's all I have left, Jack. And I know as soon as the wedding is over, you two will leave. I always knew the day would come where I would have to let my little girl go... but now that it's come, I want nothing more than to hold onto her. I only want her taken care of, fed, with somewhere warm to sleep."

Jack turned towards Ruth now, coming slightly closer, "You have my word, Ruth, that she will be okay. I won't let anything happen to her. She's stronger than you think she is. Rose doesn't need me to take care of her. She takes care of herself."

Ruth's green eyes pierced Jack's, "But you'll provide for her?"

"I'll work every day all day if it means she can do what she loves. I'll make sure she never goes without," Jack smiled and took Ruth's hand into his, surprising her greatly, "Your daughter is very special to me, Ruth. I'd do anything for her. I want you to know that."

Ruth blinked rapidly to try to stop her sudden onslaught of emotions. Jack's touch was comforting. She looked towards their hands, giving him a faint and gentle squeeze, "I thought," Ruth took a deep breath, "that when you first met Rose, it was going to be nothing but trouble. And maybe it was for awhile... but I'm glad it's you afterall, Jack. You may not have been my first pick a month ago, but you are now. The _Titanic _awakened something inside of me that I did not know was there. I see things differently."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Jack nodded at her.

In the next moment, Ruth surprised Jack. She reached forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing her against her petite body. He was rather shocked for a few seconds before finally, he pulled his arms around her mid-riff, rubbing her back in a consoling way. Jack's eyes wandered towards the white dress laid out across the bed and he smiled to himself. He had finally managed to win the hearts of both the DeWitt Bukater women.

When they parted, they both looked towards the doorway to see a grinning Rose. All Jack could see was her bright eyes and teeth. It was like looking at an angel that was all his. He knew, in that moment, everything would be okay. That everything really was going to work out. Jack was mesmerized by his bride, standing there with a knowing smirk.

All he could think about was how much he really loved that woman.


	43. Beneath the Stars

_Author's Notes: Sexual themes_

Chapter Forty-Three

_May 16th, 1912_  
_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Rose and Jack stood on the train platform in the darkness. Only a few lamps were lit, glaring yellow, with many bugs buzzing around them. The evening was warm. Jack enjoyed having his sleeves rolled. He felt the best during summer. It was his time. Rose was so eager, she was fidgeting with her nails, nearly wringing her hands. Jack took hold of her wrist, running his hands over her's.

"Don't do that, you'll ruin the softness," He joked, making a grin spread across her face. Jack lead the couple over to the bench nearest to the train tracks, "If we sit here, we'll be able to see the train coming in. I imagine there wasn't many passengers, we'll find her immediately."

"Oh, I wish it would hurry," Rose glanced to the clock hanging above the exit. She had to crane her neck to see the hour hand, which was obstructed by a rafter beam, "I just want to see her right now, Jack! It's barely been a week and I feel like it's been a lifetime since I last saw Annette."

"Are you sure you want to go to California?" Jack looked at Rose, "You'll be all the way across the country from Annette."

"I'm sure I could sweet talk her into visiting often," Rose laughed lightly, her eyes glued to the train tracks disappearing into the night, "I'll write her often, I know that."

"You'll write your mom, too, right?" Jack leaned back against the bench, bobbing his knee and crossing his arms over his chest, "She said it was important that you did."

"Yes, of course," Rose nodded, a curl falling over her shoulder, "I'll write her, too."

"Good," Jack chuckled faintly, his blond hair falling across his forehead, "because I promised her you would."

"You know... I would never guess that my mother would turn a new leaf like this," Rose looked to Jack, her green eyes gleaming in the light, "You should have seen her a year ago, Jack. She was a completely different person. Always bent up on money, the cost of things. And appearances, too. The house would be so tense, fighting for days, and yet she strolled the neighborhood and pleasantly chatted with people as if nothing was wrong. She was..." Rose paused and thought for a moment, "She was very good at pretending everything was normal when, in reality, everything was falling apart. And it would anger me greatly. That she could so easily turn a blind eye to my discomfort, my pain, and only focus on keeping up appearances. When we lost my father, she acted like she was the only person who suffered. Like I couldn't either."

"Your mother made mistakes and she realizes that now," Jack said, looking out across the rather empty train platform, "Everyone deserves a second chance, right? You gave me one."

Rose smiled and lowered her eyes to the ground, "I didn't give you a second chance... I gave myself a second chance."

Jack grinned and reached his hand out, pressing it to her thigh. He was about to speak when a train horn sounded. Rose perked up at the sound, gazing out towards the train tracks. Coming around the bend, steaming and chugging, was a train with one large circular head lamp. The brakes began to squeal as it pulled into the station, steam rising over the brick floor. Rose was at her feet in a moments notice, her hands clapsed together in eager anticipation. Jack smiled and stood behind Rose, delighted to see her so happy.

Slowly, a stream of people began filing off the train. Many looked to be business men who commuted between cities and looked dead tired. Rose slowly went closer to the train but froze in her tracks when she finally saw her. Annette was wearing a loose fitting blue dress with black stockings, her blonde hair pulled into a bun at the crown of her head. She lugged a suitcase after herself as she staggered off the steps and glanced around before finally her eyes rest on Jack and Rose.

"Annette!" Rose said, shrilly. She took off running, weaving between people. Annette dropped her suitcase and raced towards Rose as well and the women locked in a tight embrace, nearly knocking each other over. Rose's arm gripped Annette close to her and the women rocked back and forth in their arms on the platform, "It's so good to see you."

Annette gripped Rose's locks between her fingers as her hands fell flat to her back, "Oh, Rose... I missed you."

...

The trio decided to sit outside in the warm air that evening, on the porch leading to the grand garden. Annette was taking her time soaking her surroundings in. She was astounded by how large the house was, it was like a museum to her. She was convinced it was even bigger than the Central New York Hospital. Rose had disappeared into the house. Jack pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and fished one out, putting it in his mouth. He lit the cigarette and glanced towards Annette, holding his pack out to her. She grinned and accepted a cigarette herself.

"So, when is the wedding?" Annette asked after getting her cigarette lit.

"I'm guessin' tomorrow," Jack tilted his head back to look at the stars as he exhaled the smoke in his mouth, "Everyone's here now."

"No one else is coming?" Annette knit her eyebrows together, "Rose doesn't have anymore family? And... you don't either?"

"Nope," Jack smiled in his lop-sided manner, "Just you and Ruth will bear witness to it."

"Well, I'm honored, truly," Annette said. She then cast her eyes down and heaved a big sigh, "Can I tell you something before Rose comes back?"

"Sure, anything," Jack nodded.

"Okay, well..." Annette hunched her shoulders for a moment and distracted herself by tapping ash off the end of her cigarette. Jack was peering questioningly at her as he detected her sudden discomfort. Annette felt her cheeks warming up, "Jack, I... I love Rose," Her voice faltered and she took a moment to collect herself, "More than a friend..."

Jack smiled, putting his cigarette between his lips. He took his time inhaling, his eyes never leaving the flustered Annette. He even chuckled to himself, to her surprise, "You know, I kind of had a feeling it was that way. Seeing the way you two embraced each other on the train platform. But what about Liz?"

"I love Liz, too," Annette nodded slowly, "We've only known each other for a couple weeks. It's not very often you come across a woman who feels the same way as you, which is why I'm frustrated by these feelings. Rose would _never_ feel the same way about me. She doesn't function like that. But just having her in my life during the last month, having her live with me, I couldn't help but think it was almost a shame we couldn't be together. And I'm sorry, because I know you love her, too."

"You don't have to be sorry," Jack watched a ribbon of smoke trail from his cigarette, his smile never fading from his tanned face, "I'm sorry she can't be with you the way you want. But trust me, I understand why you love her. That woman drives me absolutely insane. I would never believe a girl like Rose could ever exist."

Annette looked to Jack beneath her brows, feeling rather meek, "What do her lips feel like?"

"Soft... full," Jack replied slowly, recounting all of their kisses, "She tastes like candy, in a way. She's sweet and it's easy to get addicted to."

"And her... breasts?"

"I've seen a lot of girls naked," Jack said, looking towards the open french doors, "but Rose is, by far, the most beautiful I've seen. She's got skin with no blemishes. No scars, no damage. Her skin is like silk, Annette. And her breasts... they fill my hands perfectly."

Annette raised her head now to look directly at Jack, growing more curious by the moment, "What's it like making love to a woman like that?"

Jack was silent for a few moments, still only gazing ahead, images of Rose crossing his mind, "It's like ecstasy. Everything feels... right. It feels almost too good," Jack leaned forward, planting his elbows into the garden table. He bobbed his knee, his cigarette lingering just in front of his lips, "When I touch her, I tremble. It's like laying hands on an angel that was delivered from Heaven just for me. And..." Jack paused, lowering his eyes. Annette watched closely in the dim lighting, "when I'm inside of her, it's like paradise, and I never want to pull out. I feel like I could make love to her until the end of time."

"That sounds lovely," Annette had been reduced to a whisper. She put her cigarette in her mouth, inhaling unevenly, "I know she'll be happy with you, Jack. It's all that I ask, that you please never take her for granted."

Rose appeared in the french doors suddenly, barrelling out onto the porch. Gathered in her arms was a crystal decanter and three glasses, "I found some alcohol in my father's smoking room. I thought maybe we could celebrate!" Rose grinned, setting everything down on the table. Jack cast a look at Annette, a light gleaming in his ocean blue eyes.

"I couldn't if I tried," He told her.

...

Rose's bedroom was dark, only partly illuminated by moonlight coming through her windows. The door of her room creaked open. Jack and Rose staggered in, snickering to themselves quietly. They were far beyond the legal point. Rose openly laughed after Jack closed the door.

"Shit, it's dark," Jack slurred, "Where's the light?"

"Somewhere over there," Rose chuckled, stumbling towards the fireplace. She nearly tripped herself on the small half-step dividing her sleeping space from her bathroom and sitting area. Her fingers grazed against the floor as she kept herself on her feet, making a loud thud on the hardwood planks.

"Are you okay?" Jack whispered, as still, he fumbled for a light.

"I'm okay," She confirmed, her smile never wavering. Rose dropped in front of the fireplace, clumsily stacking some logs into it. She reached into her waistband, withdrawing the lighter she had forgotten to return to Jack after four glasses of whiskey and three cigarettes, "Come on, come on..." She muttered, as her hand uselessly flicked the lighter. Finally, she was able to harvest a flame, "Viola," She grinned, holding it to an old newspaper she kept stacked by the fireplace. Rose tossed it and watched as slowly the flames began to grow, illuminating her face in its flicker. She swivelled on her knees to look towards Jack, "Forget the light. Let's sit by the fireplace. I'm cold."

"Okay, I was 'bout to give up on the light anyway," Jack laughed and went to join Rose in front of the fireplace. Het let out a content sigh as he lowered himself onto the rather plush and intricately designed rug that lay crooked on the floor. Rose watched how the dancing flames cast shadows across his face. Jack glanced towards her, the fire cackling quietly, "So, are you ready for the big day?"

"Yes," Rose was grinning triumphantly, wrapping her arms around her knees, "I'm not scared at all. You have no idea how ready I am to be a Dawson."

Jack chuckled at this, "Guess at least I'm keepin' the name alive."

"I'm glad Annette is here," Rose said.

"Yeah, me too. And... she feels the same," Jack replied, slowly recalling their chat earlier. He shifted on the floor and cleared his throat, "Can I tell you somethin'?"

"Yes, please," Rose nodded.

"Annette told me she loved you," Jack looked to Rose, a shadow cast across half of her face, "She loved you in _that _way. Like, how I love you."

"Really?" Rose smiled, surprisingly, "I suppose I'm not shocked."

"Why not?"

"I know she's a kind person, but I figured there had to be a bigger reason she was just letting me stay rent free at her apartment," She giggled furiously at the thought, "To be honest, I've thought about it."

"About what?" Jack asked, his eyes not leaving the side of Rose's face.

"About... liking girls," She shrugged, nearly shyly, "I never really thought it could be an option, you know? People have always been so disgusted by the thought but never stop to think... we can't help who we love."

"Do you like girls?"

"No, I don't think I do," Rose shook her head, "I tried to picture it, but my thoughts always ran back to you. I like the way you touch me... the way you kiss me. It's intoxicating. More so than this whiskey," Another grin spread across her face and she looked into the growing fire, "I love Annette, but not like that. I feel bad she likes me in that way."

"She's got Liz," Jack told her, "Don't feel bad. You just don't know what kind of affect you got on people, Rose," She laughed at this comment. Jack gave her a mischevious look, "You think about me touching you?"

"Everywhere," Her drunk voice fell to a whisper, "It sounds unlady-like, I know. But I think about making love to you quite a bit. When your arms are around me, everything just feels so right. The way you touch my body... it's as if you've known me forever. Being in your arms just feels like home. And I love capturing that feeling over and over again."

Jack inched his face closer to Rose now. She could faintly smell the whiskey on his breath, "Do you have any fantasies?"

She giggled, bringing her hands up to grip his suspenders, "In front of a fireplace would be classy."

"On the floor?"

"Yes," Rose nodded.

"Should we wait until our wedding night?"

Rose leaned in closer to Jack, their lips only inches apart, "We can just do it again," She whispered.

Jack didn't need to hear another word. His lips lunged forward, pressing against her's. His hands came up her back slowly, one coming to tangle through her curls and cup the back of her head. They kissed passionately, breathlessly, their lips never breaking apart. Rose's hands sandwiched his face and slowly, he laid her down on the carpet. Rose's hair splayed around her head like the fire had come out of the fireplace. Jack paused to admire her in all her beauty before dipping his head down and gently kissing her neck, leaving a hot trail on her skin. Rose fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as his hands ran over her breasts. She forced the suspenders from over his shoulders and sat up, unzipping her dress for him. Hungrily, Jack tore it down her torso, exposing her breasts to him. In a clumsy fashion, they managed to get undressed, carelessly disregarding their clothes all over the floor surrounding them.

Jack's lips tenderly touched her neck again, her fingers running through his soft skin. He ran his hands along her arms slowly, causing goosebumps to pucker all over her. His lips travelled down her neck, over her collarbone, and to her chest. She gasped in pleasure as he kissed her breast, running his tongue over her. She was nearly trembling beneath him, her hands running down his neck and grazing his own bare chest. Rose couldn't help but think how beautiful he was. How perfect his skin was. How soft he felt. It was nearly like a dream. Jack lifted his head and smiled at her, gently carressing her cheek before laying his lips against her's again. As they kissed, he grabbed hold of her thighs, turning her torwards him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pinning his body close to her's. Rose brushed his hair from his face and sat up to meet his lips again.

Jack couldn't help his hands from sliding all over her. She felt so magnificent beneath his calloused palm. It was enough to make him start trembling. He gripped her hips, situating her just right in front of her. She loved the way he was able to move her, as if she was light as a feather. Slowly, his hand travelled over her shaking thigh and dipped between her legs. Her lips abruptly broke from his when she felt his fingers. She gasped shallowly, pressing her forehead against his cheek. Jack grinned when he saw the way she had melted against him. Heat pulsated through his body as he deftly moved his fingers between her legs, knowing just where to go, and the exact rhythm. Rose laid her head back against the carpet, arching her back in pleasure. Jack's lips went back to her breasts, running his tongue along her silky skin. A breathy moan escaped Rose's pursed lips, her eyes drawn shut. Images of Jack flooded her mind, he was all she could think about. Jack lifted his head, pausing.

"Does that feel good?" He whispered, lowering his face to hover above her's.

"I don't want you to stop," Her green eyes opened. Pleadingly, she reached towards his neck, her slender fingers grazing over his ear, "Please, don't stop, Jack."

Pleased, Jack's fingers began moving again, throwing Rose through another wave of pleasure. His hands ran along the curve in her hourglass figure and again his lips travelled between her breasts and down her flat stomach, leaving a trail of fire. Rose felt her entire body warm as his lips trailed over her stomach, down her abdomen, lower and lower. That's when she felt his tongue. She gasped sharply as he pushed her legs forcefully aside. Rose's hand gripped uselessly at the carpet as moans ripped up her throat. Never before had she felt so wonderful, so on the edge. Her legs were shaking, brushing against Jack's head. Jack's hands ran over her thighs, running flat over her abdomen as he reached for her breast again, groping it. Rose's hands reached for his, nearly clawing at him. Her head fell to the side, her eyes shut, her breathing shallow. His name was right at the tip of her tongue, but she felt so loose, so free, that no words escaped. Just her short curt gasps as he continued. He seemed so eager, like she was his favorite candy, a true treat. Rose's entire body constricted as she felt herself climaxing. Her legs squeezed together, Jack's head caught between. He smiled as her sharp gasps came out. Her hands slapped to the floor, her nails grinding against the hardwood. Her back arched again, her hair tumbling across her chest as finally, she breathily called out, "Jack!"

He lifted his head for the slightest moment before he began kissing her again, travelling up her beautiful body, like it was an uninhabited island of lush greenery and unending adventure. Rose sat up, grabbing the sides of his head and drawing him to her lips. Her tongue ran across the tip of his teeth as she kissed him deeply, her nails digging into his bare shoulders. They parted for just a moment and Rose gasped for air.

"I want you inside of me," Rose told him, her green eyes gleaming.

Jack didn't need to be told twice. Their fevered kissing continued as he grabbed her waist again, drawing her against him. She felt him. He moved so tenderly. Their lips parted and she pressed her head to his shoulder, gasping sharply as she felt his hips flat against her. He began a steady rhythm and Rose fell flat to the ground again, allowing her pleasure to take her away. Jack watched her breasts move up and down as she allowed herself to be taken so passionately by him. His need grew as he watched her. She could barely keep her eyes open, she was in so much pleasure. He moved faster, wanting to hear her pants grow louder. Rose bit down on her lip, her entire body tingling in a sensation she had never felt before. Everything felt so right, like this was how it was supposed to be. Jack felt a heat mounting in his body and he let out a breathy pant. A warm sensation filled her body as Jack released a moan, dipping his head down.

The two didn't move for a few moments. They only quivered in each other's touch. Rose let out a long contented sigh, reaching for Jack. His soft blond hair fell across his sweaty forward as he lowered himself to Rose, resting his head beside her on the floor. She held his body close to her's as he laid atop her, the two panting loudly. Her slender fingers trailed over his shoulder blades, his skin sticky with sweat. Jack's head inched forward, laying a tender kiss against her neck.

"I love you," Rose whispered, her eyes meeting his.

Jack smiled, "I love you, too."


	44. Blooming Roses

Chapter Forty-Four

_May 17th, 1912_  
_Philidelphia, Pennsylvania_

Rose stared at herself in the body-length mirror. She fluffed her curls and reached for the vanity table beside the mirror, picking up a shiny pearl clip. Slowly, she twirled the tuft of her hair and laid it along the side of her head, pinning it in place. She did the same for the other side. Rose liked when her side bangs were pinned to the back of her head, the rest of her curls falling over her shoulders. She thought it made her look whimsical and inviting. Rose adjusted the lacy cuff on her wrist and let out a curt sigh, running her hands through the fluid skirt as she tilted back and forth in front of the mirror.

_This is really happening... _Rose thought as she stared at herself in the mirror, the afternoon light pouring over her. It was a beautiful day outside, warm, without a cloud in the sky. It was her sign that this was meant to happen. Rose held the skirt in her hands, waving it back and forth, watching the fabric ripple, _I no longer have to be Rose DeWitt Bukater. That name can't imprison me anymore. I'll be free to be who I was all along. Today is my day._

There was a curt rap on her door. Rose slowly looked over her shoulder, "Come in," She called lightly. The door creaked open and Annette popped her head in. She had allowed her wavy blonde hair to be down. Her glossy locks fell over her shoulder as she looked towards Rose, "Oh, Annette, please come in. I'd like your opinion."

Annette grinned and closed the door behind her. She was wearing a frilly green dress with black stitch work along the hems. Annette came around the bed and paused, clasping her hands together and bringing them to her chin. She blinked rapidly, her eyes glassy, as she stared at Rose, "You look beautiful, Rose... like royalty," Annette approached Rose and reached for her hand, tenderly running her thumb over the top, "Your mother was complaining about not buying you a proper wedding dress, but you don't need it. You make the simplest, everyday dress look grand."

"Thank you, Annette," Rose smiled gently. She took in a deep breath and laughed, almost shaking, "I can't believe I'm so nervous. It's just Jack... what do I have to be nervous about?"

Annette chuckled and strolled to the vanity table, looking over the cosmetics, perfumes, and hair accessories littering it, "You're not nervous about marrying Jack," Annette paused, reaching for a perfume bottle shaped like a diamond. She took a small whiff and smiled, recognizing the scent. Annette grinned and looked towards Rose now, "You just haven't let yourself believe yet that you're marrying the man of your dreams."

Rose grinned and lowered her eyes, her eyelids sparkled with the light pink she had dusted over them. She had chosen to go for a more natural look. Annette couldn't get over how splendid she looked. Rose raised her eyes to meet Annette's, "You have no idea how much it means to me that you're here, Annette. You took time off work and came-"

"That's what friends do," Annette approached Rose, gripping both her hands again, "I wouldn't have thought twice about coming, Rose. It's important to me that you're happy. I'd give anything in the world to witness those moments," She paused, looking towards their entangled hands, "I know you're leaving tonight, heading out towards Santa Monica," Annette smiled, admiring Rose's eyes, surrounded by thick beautiful lashes, "Jack told me. If ever you need me. I'll be there as soon as I can. And," a big goofy grin came across Annette's face, "you better think of me as your one and only option as a mid-wife, got it?"

Rose laughed, falling against Annette, wrapping her arms around her petite body. Annette smiled, pulling her arms around Rose's shoulders, "I can't say thank you enough for what you did for me," Rose said into her shoulder, "You saved my life, Annette."

"No, no, no," Annette drew Rose back, her hands on her shoulders, "You saved yourself, Rose. All I did was give you a couch to sleep on. You did the rest. All of it. After today, after you move on, don't you dare try to trick yourself into thinking it wasn't you who saved yourself. You can be thankful for the support network, sure, but never forget that you escaped. That you went on to live another day."

Rose stared at Annette, trying not to let the tears fall, but they began brimming up, clouding her vision. She smiled and let out a breathy laugh, sniffling. Rose couldn't believe how lucky she was to know a woman like Annette. She didn't think there was a friend like her out there. Rose lowered her eyes for a moment, her heart thudding in her chest. In the next moment, she brought her hand up to gently touch Annette's chin. Rose leaned forward and pressed her lips against Annette's. At first, Annette almost seemed shock, but she pushed back, resting her hand on Rose's arm. Jack was right. She did taste like candy. Slowly, their lips parted and they stared at each other in the bright afternoon light. Rose grinned, her thumb tracing over her cheek.

"Thank you, Annette," She whispered.

...

Rose and Annette found Ruth pacing in the sunroom that lead to the garden. When she saw Rose, she paused, staring at her intently. She couldn't help but think Rose looked lovely, but still wished she had bought an actual wedding dress. The day had come, though. The day her little girl would be given away. The conflicting feeling in her stomach was one she knew she'd feel whether Rose had been marrying Cal. It was a feeling of pride and sorrow. One that made her belly toss. It was the day that Ruth would become the sole DeWitt Bukater, the last of the line. Annette sensed Ruth needed a moment with her daughter.

"I'll be waiting in the garden," Annette told Rose, giving her arm a squeeze, "with Jack."

"Okay," Rose whispered, grinning. Annette walked out the open french doors, her heels clunking down the porch steps. Rose turned to face her mother now, nearly trembling where she stood. Ruth's hands were clapsed together, a gleam in her eyes.

"You look lovely, Rose," Ruth told her softly. Her heels clacked on the marble floor as she approached Rose, gently fixing her curls on her shoulders, "This is really the wedding you want? Here? Beneath the oak tree?"

"Yes," Rose nodded. She walked past her mother to look out the french doors towards the winding garden, "This was my happy place."

Ruth joined Rose at the door, "It was mine, too," Ruth took in a deep breath, her nostrils flaring, "This is where I'd come when your father and I fought. I'm sure you remember... it was quite a frequent thing. Something about this garden, however, was promising. It would blossom every season without fail. It was a reminder... that life would move on."

"We always perservered," Rose replied, her eyes spying the oak tree in the center of the garden, towering over the blooming hedges, "No matter what, you and I have always survived. It was always you and me."

"I'm thankful every day that I still have you, Rose," Ruth lowered her eyes and then turned, walking to a desk beneath a window. She slid the top drawer opened and pulled something out, holding it close to her. Rose turned to her mother, curiously, "I wore this on my wedding day," Ruth said with her back to Rose, admiring what was in her hands, "There's nothing more I would like than for you to please wear it on yours."

Ruth turned towards Rose, holding a thin and sparkly tiara, lined with diamonds, plated in platinum, "Will you wear it?" Ruth asked, approaching her daughter. Rose could see the tiara trembling in her hands. Ruth laughed lightly, "I hope you won't see it as a bad omen. An ill-willed wish on the start of your marriage. I picked this out myself, when I thought I was in love with your father. It was purchased with good intent."

Rose stared at it in Ruth's fingers for a moment before raising her eyes to her mother. Rose finally smiled and nodded, "Will you put it on for me?"

Slowly, Ruth raised the tiara over Rose's head and set it on top, digging the teeth on the arms securely into her curls. She adjusted Rose's hair around it slowly, straightening it out. Her heart was thudding in her chest, as if she was crowning the newest princess to the throne. She stepped back to admire Rose as a whole now. She clapsed her hands together and nodded, "It's the perfect finish," Ruth turned back to the desk and pulled a hand mirror from the top drawer, handing it to Rose. Rose stared at her reflection in silence, the glinting tiara catching her eye. For once, Rose wasn't scared of herself looking back at her. If anything, she finally felt whole and at peace.

"I'll see you out there," Ruth whispered with glassy eyes. She approached Rose and cupped her cheek gently, pressing her lips to the other, "I love you, Rose... you're my angel," Rose felt her own tears welling up in her eyes as her mother backed up, casting one more glance at her, before beginning towards the french doors.

Rose bit down her lip, taking in a deep breath in an attempt chase away her onslaught of emotions, "Wait," Rose called, her voice cracking slightly. Ruth paused at the door, her slender hand running along the frame as she turned back towards Rose with arched eyebrows. Rose shifted in place for a moment, dropping her hands to her side, "Why don't you walk me down the aisle?"

"You... you want me to give you away?" Ruth whispered.

"Yes," Rose came up to her mother, grabbing her hand, "you should be the one to do it. You raised me. And I can't thank you enough for never giving up on me. I know I wasn't an easy child. I know I was combative. But... you never stopped loving me."

Ruth had tears falling down her cheeks now. She sniffled, using the velvet cuff on her dress to dab at her eyes. She cleared her throat, looking out towards the beautiful day awaiting them. She smiled weakly, looking to Rose, "If it's what you want."

"It is. I swear," Rose whispered, "Please, Mother."

Ruth couldn't stop the tears now. The salty tears clouded her vision as she held her arm out to Rose. Rose grinned widely, linking her arm through Ruth's. Ruth held Rose securely to her, pressing her hand to her lacy sleeves. She laughed breathily, looking towards her daughter.

"I never saw this coming in a million years," Ruth told her as they slowly walked out onto the porch. The afternoon air was crisp, with a pleasant breeze running through, rustling all the leaves, "I never once thought this is what would end up happening. I thought the _Titanic _was the end of our family as I knew it," The two women descended the porch stairs. Rose's grin was ear to ear as her mother continued talking softly, "I underestimated you... and even myself. Rose... this must have been how it was supposed to be all along. This is actually what was supposed to happen. You and I were destined for happiness this whole time. I was fool for trying to fight it."

"It doesn't matter," Rose told her as they ventured into the garden, "All that matters now is we've reached our destination. To Hell with what happened, Mother. It's all in the past now."

"Is that your way of telling me you forgive me?" Ruth asked.

"You don't need forgiveness," Rose shook her head as they turned a corner. The oak tree was growing taller as they stepped bit by bit towards the center of the garden, "I know you've only wanted what was best for me. I can't blame you for the words we exchanged, the actions we took. All I can say is thank you."

"Well, my make up is ruined," Ruth said, a chuckle rising up her throat.

"It's okay. Mine is too," Rose giggled. Ruth squeezed her arm tighter.

Finally, the two came around the final corner. Annette was standing beside a tall hedge with blossoming roses. Rose noticed that was the only type of flower, in a variety of pinks, reds, and yellows. She couldn't help but feel it was symbolic in a way. The roses had returned to their former glory of enriching smells, just as Rose had returned to herself again, finally feeling normal once more. She felt in control, redirected, she felt a new purpose within the pit of her stomach. Rose had finally bloomed. Annette had tears in her eyes as she saw Rose with her glittering tiara. She glanced towards the tree and that's when Rose saw Jack. Wearing his normal courdoroy pants, white button up, and suspenders. He was in the shade of the tree, the biggest grin on his face. There he was... waiting for her. For their life together.

Rose paused and looked to Annette. She slowly held her arm out to her. Annette was frozen in place for just a few moments before she came forward, linking arms with Rose as well. Together, the three women walked towards Jack, who was waiting patiently, but eagerly. Everyone was silent. Only the gentle breeze and chirping birds could be heard. The women came before Jack and paused.

Ruth was the first to speak, after taking in a curt breath. She looked at Jack with a quivering grin, "You'll take care of my little girl, right? Protect her with your life? Spoil her rotten? Make sure she is comfortable and taken care of?"

"I swear on my life," Jack told her.

Annette broke away from Rose, backing up to watch the tender scene. Her entire body was shaking with excitement. Ruth still gripped Rose's arm tightly.

"You'll allow me to come visit?"

"Always," Jack nodded.

"Mother," Rose whispered, gently touching her arm.

"Hm?" Ruth tore her eyes away from Jack, "Oh, right... Well, here she is, Jack. I... I happily give my daughter to you. I know you'll protect her and care for her. I just... can't believe the day is actually here. She's no longer mine, Jack. She's yours."

Jack reached out, taking Rose's hand. Rose had stars in her eyes as she looked towards her groom. Ruth lowered her eyes for a moment as the tears came out as fast as a flowing river. The entire frame of her body was beginning to shake as her emotions overwhelmed her. Jack turned towards Ruth, suddenly, sweeping her into a tight hug. Ruth gripped at Jack's shoulders, pressing her face into him, soaking her tears into his shirt.

"I promise you," Jack whispered into her ear, "She's going to be OK. You did a good job, Ruth."

Ruth drew back from Jack and brought her trembling hands to gently graze his cheeks. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his stubbly cheek, "I know, Jack," She whispered, her breath brushing against his jaw, "And thank you."

Jack turned back towards Rose, grabbing hold of both her hands. He gently raised them, his lips kissing her knuckles tenderly, over and over. Ruth stepped back to watch with Annette, who handed her a lacy handkerchief for the two to share. It was easy to tell the two were absolutely in love. Ruth, herself, could see the never ending adventure awaiting them on the horizon together. In a way, Ruth was nearly jealous. All she had wanted for herself was somebody to truly love her. But she had severely underestimated the will-power and fight it took to capture that, as Rose had proved to her. Rose had never given up or taken no for an answer. She didn't care about defying anybody. She had wanted to be with Jack, and by God, she had allowed no one to stand in her way. Ruth realized just how wonderful her daughter truly was. Rose wasn't afraid like she was. And that was a beautiful thing. In that moment, Ruth realized she wouldn't have to worry about Rose.

"Well," Jack laughed openly now, "here we are. Pretty surreal, huh?"

"Yeah," Ruth giggled and lowered her eyes for a moment, "crazy how things work out."

"How about I go first?" Jack suggested, the wind brushing his hair over his bold brows. Rose grinned and nodded, giving his hands an encouraging squeeze. Jack took in a deep breath and focused on Rose's heart shaped face, so lovely, so beautiful, so enticing, "When I first saw you on the _Titanic_, you did not look pleased. I was gazing at you from the lower deck, I had, uh, been drawing some people from life to pass the time. You were so noticeable because of that bright red hair, but what made you stand out was how unhappy you looked. You were all done up; hair, jewels, dress, the works... and yet none of that mattered to you. I watched you because I wanted to draw you. What you evoked from me was a feeling I had been trying to capture in pictures. I wanted you to be my subject... but you disappeared just as quick, baited back away to your old life. From that moment on, you've the only thing to fill all the empty space in my mind. You're all I think about, you're a constant running train of thought. Nothing matters more than you. You proved to me soulmates were true... you plucked this tumbleweed out of the wind, Rose. I love you because of it," He laid his soft lips to her knuckles again. Rose trembled in his touch.

"I read a lot of books as a kid," Rose said, breathily, staring into his eyes like she was about to fall head-first into an ocean, "I read so much because it was my only escape from my life. I could curl up in bed and disappear to another world, feel close to a different group of people. I could go on endless adventures, save my loved ones, and vanguish all evil. I could be a hero. Someone strong. It's what I had always wanted," Rose paused, licking her ruby red lips lightly, "In all of those stories, I always fell in love with the leading male character. Always a beacon of hope, a symbol of strength and security. And I guessed I loved them because there seemed to be no one like that in the world. It made me doubt the craft of writing. Who could they possibly be basing these characters off of?" She laughed at her own rhetorical question, making Jack grin boyishly, "But I was actually reading about you all along. Every night I read out on my balcony, under the stars, I always wondered if someone who loved me was looking at the same ones. I knew you were the one when that shooting star came across the sky and we both saw it. Someone who can appreciate the simplicity in life... well, you were the ones in the book. Everything that has happened has been worth it. And everything from this day forward will be, too, with you by my side."

They exchanged the rings. Their fingers hungrily explored each others hands as slowly, they stacked their hands together over their new wedding bands. They slowly leaned in towards each other, their entangled hands breaking apart to hold the other. Their lips meant gently, patiently. The kiss was soft and meaningful. It was a promiseful kiss. One that would speak dearly to them for the years to come. When their lips parted, Annette immediately began clapping. The couple had nearly forgotten Annette and Ruth were there, they had become so absorbed with each other.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dawson," Annette's grin was big enough to break her face.

"Rose Dawson..." She muttered to herself and let out a breath, smiling with tears brimming her eyes. She said her new name again and once more. Rose nearly couldn't believe it.

...

Jack and Rose retired to her bedroom a little after seven. The sun had grown to a sherbert color as dusk descended on the city. A few stars were beginning to break through, ready to lull the earth to sleep. Rose collapsed onto the bed immediately, carelessly kicking her heels off. Jack walked to the balcony door and pushed it open. The cicadas chriped brightly from the nearby tree. When he turned back towards the bed, he noticed Rose was holding her left hand above her head from where her head rest, simply staring at it. He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame. She looked so beautiful, even worn out. Many curls had come free from the pins, her ruby red lips were fading. Her tiara was even crooked on her head.

_Princesses get tired, too, _Jack thought to himself, suppressing a chuckle.

Rose propped herself up on her elbow and grinned at her husband. She reached her hand out towards him, beckoning him with her slender fingers. Jack came automatically without moment of hesitation. He took her small hand into his, allowing her to guide him towards the bed. Jack dipped his head down to meet her lips, his hands gently combing her locks from her face.

"Ready to go?" He whispered, looking into her green eyes.

"Already?" She asked, holding a yawn back. He smiled and grabbed her hands, pulling her up right. She laughed as Jack got her onto her stocking feet, "We don't even have time for a nap?" She giggled as he ushered her towards the closet.

"Nope, train leaves in forty-five minutes," Jack said, stuffing some pants into his bag.

"Where's it going?" Rose asked, glancing over her shoulder as she hauled a few dresses off the rack.

"Well," Jack grinned lop-sidedly and reached into his pocket, "I found a straight shot trip to Santa Monica, California," He held the tickets up for Rose. She could see from where she stood, the bold letters of their destination.

Rose smiled, clutching some dressed to her, enthralled, "Oh, I'm so excited," She whispered, shifting back and forth on her stocking feet, "You're going to teach me to ride a horse like a man, right?"

"O'course," Jack said as he continued packing. Rose began shoving more and more into her bag, getting excited with each passing second.

"And we'll ride the rollercoaster until we throw up? Drink cheap beer?"

"I don't know in which order, but yes," Jack grinned mischieviously at her.

After they had finished gathering everything worth taking and Rose had changed into a comfortable cotton dress for the trip, the two had determined they were ready to go. Rose pressed her hand to the wooden bedpost and gazed around once more.

"And onwards we go..." She whispered, her eyes darting everywhere to soak it up.

"You're sure you wanna do this?" Jack asked again, pressing his hand to her arm. She placed her hand over his.

"I want this more than anything in the world."

Jack grinned sweetly and brought his free hand up to gently carress her jaw, drawing her towards him. Their lips hovered inches apart and he whispered, "Then let's go, Mrs. Dawson," He gripped her hand and began towing her towards the balcony, "To the stars, you requested, right, madam?"

Rose gave him a goofy smile and assumed a mocking aristrocratic accent, "Why, yes, I do believe that is what I requested."

"Then to the stars we will go. Nothing short of it," Jack told her as they burst through the door and into the humid night. The sun had been completely absorbed into the nighttime. The couple looked up the full moon sailing through the sky above them. A few silouettes of bats flitted by. Rose sighed in awe at the beautiful night.

Rose was drawn away from the sky, however, when Jack tossed his bag into a bush down below, "What in the world?" She breathed and looked to Jack with her mouth agape as he began preparing to toss her's down, "What are you doing, Jack?"

"We're heading out for the train station," He grinned, "I thought we'd just go out this way."

Rose let out a happy sigh and leaned against the railing. She watched Jack toss her bag down below into the garden. She then reached for him, grabbing hold of his sleeve, and tugging him towards her. Jack pressed his body against Rose, playfully pinning her against the railing. She grinned at the silly man and toyed with his suspenders.

"I love you," She told him, looking up into his eyes.

"I love you, too," He replied, cupping her cheek in his hand, "Are you ready to go?"

"To the stars, with you?" Rose grinned and paused, licking her lips, "I'm ready."

Jack pulled himself over the edge of the balcony, dangling his legs down. Just below, there was enough cushion from a pile of leaves for them to drop safely. Jack glanced towards Rose and held his hand out towards her. Rose accepted his hand, pulling her legs over as well.

"Alright, ready?" He smiled in a dare devil-way. Rose assumed this was not his first time doing something like this.

"You jump, I jump," Rose nodded, looking down towards the leave pile.

"Santa Monica, here we come!" Jack shouted as they both kicked themselves from the ledge. They fell into the pile of leaves, having the wind knocked out of them. They wheezed with laughter as they sat up, leaves stuck in their hair and clothes. Jack looked toward his wife, her cheeks flushed from laughing. He watched as she slowly plucked leaf after leaf from her curls, her smile never wavering. They had only been married for three hours and yet, their adventure had already begun, "No time to get all the leaves off," Jack laughed, leaping to her feet. He yanked Rose upright and grabbed their bags. They two clambered through the crumpled bush and onto the brick path of the garden. Rose was laughing ferociously with Jack as he took her hand and guided her out the side fence of the garden.

Together, the two snuck away, laughing into the night time, with their hands clapsed. They knew there were more familiar nights like this to be had, somewhere where the air smelled salty, and seagulls cried out from the sky. Somewhere they could hear the ocean's waves from their open bedroom window. And they were well on their way to making it happen. Not at all weighed down or held back by the past thirty days. They were bright-eyed and bushy tailed for what was still to come. As long as they had each other, they knew everything would be okay.

The End


End file.
